


number 18 and the wicked, terrible, and very dangerous game

by kittyyzma



Category: Euphoria (TV 2019)
Genre: A Murder Mystery If You Squint, A Runaway Train From Start To Finish, Abuse, Angst and Porn, F/F, F/M, Lexi Is All Of Us, Nate Is Bad—Very Bad, Nate Is Going To Jail And Then Hell, Posted Without Supervision, Rue Is In Over Her Head, Smut, complicated relationship, dumpster fire, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyyzma/pseuds/kittyyzma
Summary: Nate Jacobs crash-lands in the center of Rue Bennett’s life at the worst time. Her experience with him is a whirlwind of poor decisions and frustration.
Relationships: Cassie Howard & Maddy Perez, Gia Bennett & Rue Bennett, Nate Jacobs & Cal Jacobs, Nate Jacobs & Maddy Perez, Rue Bennett & Lexi Howard, Rue Bennett/Jules Vaughn(mentioned), Rue Bennett/Nate Jacobs
Comments: 69
Kudos: 91





	1. and so it begins...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bad idea. I’ve done it though, against my better judgment. I kind of love Nate and the fact that he’s a huge trashbag. 
> 
> Big ups to Zendaya for baggin’ Jacob Elordi though. Jealous.

The earth feels unsure under her feet, like the pavement will collapse and cave in on itself. 

In a way, it already has. 

Jules is gone. On a train to god knows where—Rue can’t fuckin’ remember where she’d said. Jules bought the ticket. 

She can’t change her mind now; Jules is gone. 

It had been her own idea, and she just let Jules leave. The girl she loves, she’s gone. And the most terrifying thing about it is knowing that if something terrible happens to her, it’ll be Rue’s own fault. 

She trudges down the street, not caring and almost hoping someone just hits her. At least her mind will be quiet, at least the craving will go away. She just wants to escape. But she knows…she’d done everything in her own power to take all her own worth away. She doesn’t deserve to be carefree. So she walks, closer and closer to home. And while there’s nothing there for her but some pills she stole from Jules’s dad and old coke, she can’t help herself. 

She keeps walking. Rue doesn’t trust herself to run. She’s too thrown off by Jules actually staying on the train. 

She really just  _ left _ . 

Nate said she would...down the line. The bitter truth of it is, she’s always known. When she proposed they leave, she thought it would be a good substitute—asking that they leave before Jules got the idea—so Jules wouldn’t go without thinking to take her. And then she’d choked, stood there on the platform, tears in her eyes because she couldn’t do that to Gia, her mom…

(She hasn’t faced the truth that she’s used Jules as a crutch for her journey to sobriety. Sobriety that she doesn’t even know how to handle. Her girlfriend; another addiction she uses to replace the last one.) 

Jules is someone too good for her to drag down with her even with the partying and the general wreckage she can wreak… but she has a good heart, and even better intentions. 

Rue was born in this town, she’ll die here. Without anyone, like she deserves. But maybe she’ll be with her dad again, the one person who was supposed to always be there. 

She can’t take this right now. 

Rue pulls at her hair, taking her hands through the curls. Torn apart from the same familiar exhaustion, her steps slow until she’s just standing in the middle of the road. She’s not even a block away from home, she can make it. She doesn’t want to, for she knows just what she’ll do if she goes to shut herself in her room. Her mother is asleep, but she knows Gia will wake up at the sound of her stumbling and near-hyperventilation. 

Headlights flash in her dazed eyes. Tires screeching to a halt, a few paces ahead of her, make her jump. 

The teen recognizes the pickup, the grey truck is stopped ahead, in the middle of the median. No one else is out right now—it doesn’t matter—and he wouldn’t care regardless. Her breath catches in her throat. And finally as the fog of her impending anxiety attack starts to fade, she forces herself to come down from the rest of the the building panic. 

He starts to reverse, lowering the driver's side window. 

_ Fuck meeee,  _ she groans in frustration. She doesn’t need this right now. 

“What the fuck are you doing, Bennett?” His arm hangs out the window, his stark white dress shirt contrasts the night and her mood. 

“Fuck off Nate...alright?” he’s done enough tonight, hasn’t he? Trying to pull his Jedi mindfuck at the dance left her angry and off kilter, but also embarrassed. She laid her cards out to him—the threat fell flat considering he still doesn’t seem at all affected by her promising to walk into a station and report his father. 

For whatever reason, Nate seems sympathetic. Her tears are as bright as her pink and purple, glittering eyelids. “Where’s Jules?” 

She’s not fooled, she knows he doesn’t really care. Rue wipes her eyes with the cuff of her jacket, scoffing. “Let’s not do this. I don’t  _ want  _ to do this.” 

(This is actually perfect timing. He's been thinking about how he’s going to deal with her now that he’s confirmed Jules told her too much.) 

Nate seems to weigh the options as he peers around the street. No one is out but the two of them and not out of the ordinary for around here. “Get in,” He offers, nodding his head to the other side of the truck. “I’ll take you home.” 

“I’d rather fuckin’ die, thanks,” Rue quips, her tone heavy and her expression just as serious. But she hasn’t moved; not since he’s stopped. And she’s tired, though stuck between wanting to welcome relapse with open arms and thinking herself a bigger fuck-up than usual. 

She knows, if he wants to hurt her, he’s had plenty of opportunity throughout the night. And it may be the grief of Jules’ departure, but if she’s going to die, then at least she’ll die doing something utterly and totally idiotic, though different from her usual kind of  _ stupid.  _ And Nate, he’s not the kind of stupid that ends up being harmless, no. He’s an impending trainwreck. A full on, racing down the tracks, freight train that she knows already has a million ways to run her over and leave her for dead. Though, he knows exactly how to cut you down with words too. Her involvement with him, is really, really stupid;  _ he _ is not. 

_ Fuck it.  _ He’s the exact kind of mess she doesn’t need to be mixed up with. But isn’t it too late? She opened the door at winter formal when she unsubtly threatened him on the front steps of the East Highland. 

(She shouldn’t go home anyway, not when her head is such a mess and the drugs are calling her name.) 

Maybe  _ he will _ kill her. 

“Where’s Maddy?” Rue asks, coming to stand closer to his window. She can reach out and touch him to make sure this isn’t her grief stricken brain making fun of her now; reminding her of the harsh reality that Jules is gone but trouble remains. Nate’s here and he’s real. And he hates that she’s mentioned his eternal flame: Maddy Perez. 

He hesitates then and she thinks:  _ bingo _ . He’ll never be over the mention of his kryptonite, his on-again-off-again girlfriend. Maddy is a mess, his favorite one. Addicted to him in a way that marks her as his. 

_ He wants something he can own.  _

“We broke up tonight,” Nate says, his shoulders sag, and he looks defeated. 

“For the 30th time…” Rue says, unable to give up the opportunity to jab him in the ribs—kick him while he’s down. This is the boy who hurt her Jules. And Fezco. He doesn’t deserve pity. Besides, he’ll be back with Maddy by the end of the weekend. And if she doesn’t get in his truck; the end of the night. 

“Do you want a ride home or not?” He asks. The footballer is trying to be a decent person tonight; while he’s still feeling like shit. His head hurts from banging it so many times the night before after the game. It’s 1:15am—he’s avoiding going home. He can crash at the motel tonight. The breakdown he’s not even acknowledging to himself is still weighing heavy. It’s rare that this actually reflects into something not self destructive like calling Maddy—meeting at the hotel and fucking each other’s brains out until they’re numb—but they’re not going to do that anymore. So he took her home, and has been driving ever since. He ended up here, just because he knows Jules is sometimes here. He has yet to pass up the opportunity to torment her. Rue’s misery has been a precious byproduct. But Rue can be another way to keep Maddy off his mind, he supposes. 

(Maddy’s always had the power to keep him away, she’s just never genuinely wanted to. And he knows that. But tonight is different than all the other times. She didn’t sound angry, or sad, she’d just sounded ready for their last dance to really be their last. ) 

He doesn’t really know how to deal with his realization that Maddy doesn’t love him anymore. Rue is the only other interesting person he knows, other than Jules, and she may actually hate him more than Rue does. He’s made sure of that. He doesn’t really care though...not really. As long as she keeps her mouth shut. 

Her entire body screams that this is bad. But she’s been responsible enough for one night. 

Nate watches as Rue walks around the front of the truck, he gets a good look at the bag she carries on her back. 

_ Huh.  _

Illuminated in the harsh light from his headlights, she squints until she gets to the door. Her eyes are still wet with tears she hasn’t bothered to finish drying. And as she climbs into the truck, she realizes that this is  _ certifiably  _ nuts. But she looks over at him and bites her lip nervously. “I don’t need the ride home—not really dying to go.” 

“I figured that when I saw you standing in one spot a block away from your house,” he bites back, his tone suggesting irritation though she can’t understand why. He stopped voluntarily. “I coulda hit you.” 

“Why didn’t you?” She asks, “woulda been doing me a favor.”

“Yeah well, you look too pretty to be spread across the pavement that way,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

_ And I can’t get tangled up with the cops again. _

Strangling Maddy had been a terrible reaction to her actions at the carnival. It’s not a good excuse—so people keep saying—but oh well. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. She’s done with him. But he’d never survive prison. And his father will probably kill him before he allows the shame to smear their name. It’s ironic actually; when everything Nate has done is because his father has to be a fuckin’ weirdo. 

There’s more there—too much to be sorted through to provide any sort of clarity. So he’s left to his rage. It’s his fuel—at least his father believes so, and antagonistically adds more gasoline to the flames—letting the emotions pile up until all Nate can do is simply react to it before ultimately consumed. 

Nate feels like he’s the only one holding his family together. The girl sitting beside him seems to be far too satisfied knowing what she knows—holding the power to ruin their lives. She’s his demise in a pretty package. 

“I can’t tell if you genuinely meant that as a compliment, but never again Nate.” She pulls her feet up onto the seat, her thin ankles cross as her knees settle close to her chest. “That’s the third time you’ve given me a compliment in one night.” 

“I mean it,” he doesn’t spare a glance, but instead drives down the street, by her house. They both watch as they go by, the front room is lit in yellow and Rue can spot her mother finally removing herself from the den, cutting off the light; resigned to the fact that Rue isn’t coming home. 

It’s like the moment passes in slow motion and they both recognize it as Rue’s last chance to get out of this situation unscathed. But she doesn’t tell him to stop. 

She doesn’t utter a word for a few long moments. Instead she ruminates on his words and the odd admission that he finds her easy on the eyes. What is he attempting to get out of saying it? He can’t possibly think it’s going to work, whatever the end-game. And no matter what, with every kind word, there have been 10 cruel ones. 

“Just because you say you mean it...doesn’t mean I actually believe you,” Rue matches his glare. “I’m not gonna do whatever it is you want me to do for you either. Don’t even waste your breath.” The 17 year old had meant it when she told him the fear of a ruined lifetime is nothing to her. 

“I don’t wanna ruin your life,” he shrugs then, looking serious. But if there’s one thing Rue knows, it’s that Nate is a goddamn liar and a manipulator. But it’s too late to turn back now… she’s already in his car; she’s already opened a window. He’s now someone who’s giving her a ride to god knows where because she can’t face the music of her own addictions.

She’s literally heading to a  _ second location _ with the resident psychopath Nate Jacobs. Does that make her just as crazy? Does that make her an even bigger trainwreck than she thought her entire life? She’s actively trying to destroy her own life—so far she’s succeeded—and Nate is just another tool in aiding her. 

She’s never going to another school dance. 

“You’ve already started. Jules is gone, and it’s your fault,” Rue knows she’s playing a dangerous game, trying to goad him into a fight. He could kill her. He can take her anywhere and dump her. But she’s angry and upset and even though she didn’t leave town because of her family—thinking of her family for the  _ first _ time in months—the crushing blow that followed when Jules still decided to leave? Maybe dying will be easier than facing that. 

She probably won’t be able to stomach her dramatics once Jules finds herself bored and returns home to face her father. 

“I only told you the truth,” Nate looks at her then, as they stop at the first redlight in the neighborhood. “I didn’t think it would come true tonight.” 

“Fuck you,” she shakes her head at him.  _ The smug bastard. “ _ I meant what I said,” Rue warns him, with a harsh glare and near growl, “Leave Fezco alone. And when Jules—“

“I don’t give a fuck about Fez,” he lies. He is the reason Fez was raided. They both know it. And he’ll probably do it again just to sate his own boredom. “And Jules is  _ gone.”  _

She stares at him—avoiding his eyes, the center of his forehead, her jaw set and her heart pounding in her chest. Where does he get off being so smug? Is it because his Dad fucked him up so irrecoverably or was he always going to end up this way? Does any of that matter? Isn’t he old enough to know how to treat people? 

The answer is yes. But her hands aren’t clean either, are they? She knows the answer to that too. 

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that right?” 

“You’re an addict,” He tosses back, just as casually. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“You’re not better than me. Everyone is too afraid of your sick version of Daddy Warbucks to tell you to go  _ fuck yourself,”  _ Rue’s tongue is sharp and he is moments from recoiling. He recovers unscathed. 

“You don’t know what you’re fuckin’ talking about,” his tone is sharper and his knuckles are white around his steering wheel. 

He rules this town. He just doesn’t trust her enough to let her know that  _ he _ knows that. 

She wonders; If she keeps pushing...will he reach out and push her head into the window? Punch her? Why doesn’t she give a damn about it right now? Why is she even  _ in his  _ truck?

Part of him hadn’t thought she’d accept the ride. And he definitely can’t explain why he’s complimenting her. He knows she doesn’t believe he means it, that he’s pushing to see how far he can take it with her and knock her off her game. And it’s mostly true. He doesn’t really care about Rue—not anyone. But she knows too much, far too much, to be kept at arm's length. He’s not blind however. She  _ is  _ pretty and tonight, when the effort has been put in, her beauty is obvious. Even if she doesn’t meet the usual requirements. She’s beautiful. In a broken way; a way that is easily handled in the only way he knows how to deal with it. 

But despite what she lacks in image—she’s not like Jules—she’s like Maddy.  _ Weak _ . He can sense it. She’s too sentimental, too easily affected by people. And even more stubborn than pride will ever allow her to admit. There are Jules’ and Maddy’s of the world. And he’s pretty sure she’s a ‘ _ Maddy’ _ . But unlike the real thing, he doesn’t care about this one. He’ll let her self destruct. And then she won't be able to rat him or his dad out to the cops; not if she’s an even bigger mess than usual, more than she’s already been her entire life. It’s not a foolproof plan, but it will work. He’ll make it work. 

“Where are we going?” 

“I’m hungry,” Nate replies, looking over her again, “take your shoes off my seat. Were you raised in a fuckin’ barn?” She flips him the bird, and keeps her feet up defiantly. He has half a mind to pull over and wait. But he knows there will be some things he has to tolerate in order for his plan to work. Like the fact that she doesn’t  _ listen.  _ He’s known her since they were kids, she’s always been a little weird—not as weird as he knows is possible—so he’s never minded it much. But her being  _ unique,  _ as the teachers liked to say? It’s transformed itself into unbearability now. He huffs a breath, feeling his irritation with her rising. “Do you...eat?”

“No.” In one word, the sarcasm cuts like a hot knife through butter. He stares at her for a second. There are a million things he wants to say to her. And for a moment, he imagines smashing her face into the dashboard. But mostly he’s struck by how much she’s done to avoid his gaze since she’s gotten into the truck.  _ Good _ . Even if she’s still offering retorts, they’re not as biting as he knows she’s capable. Their back and forth at winter formal was much more enlightening. She smiles even if she wants to swallow it back. Her face is expressive. He can tell she cares for Jules, and in a convoluted way; she probably  _ loves _ Jules. But people like Jules move on when they’re tired of the same old thing—it seems it’s already happened—not his fault Rue was too blind to see it. She probably belongs here with him more than she belongs anywhere else. It’s just a fact that she’s an even bigger mess than either would ever admit to being. But those things happen—his mother and father are an example of what a woman’s luck can look like, no? 

She’ll look at him, but not in the eyes. But if that’s her attempt at hiding just how messed up Jules has her right now? She’s doing a terrible job. Her entire face talks, telling on her. Her countenance reflects a frown in place of her usual knowing smirk. She normally looks at him like she’s one step ahead, and he hates it. This is a nice break. 

“I’ve been eating a lot of pancakes,” Rue offers, without thinking. It’s a peek into her routine she hopes he doesn’t pick up on. She hadn’t thought this far ahead into the conversation and her barbs don’t seem to be working; this is a dangerous game now, letting him in on even the smallest of things. But isn’t he just as screwed up as she is, If not more? 

A dangerous game indeed.

She shakes away the sympathy. The devil doesn’t deserve her prayers. 

.

.

.

They end up at the familiar diner, and she isn’t sure she wants him here, to now know about it, it feels like her spot. But it’s too late. She’s stealing it from Ali anyway. 

Nate backs crossway into a parking space and she glares, “You’re gonna get a ticket,” Rue promises, though in the grand scheme it doesn’t matter. He’ll make even the smallest of blemishes go away. 

“No, I’m not.” He smirks, cutting the engine. 

Shaking her head, Rue ignores the grin on his face and exits the vehicle. “I fuckin’ hate you,” She mutters. 

He knows she believes that. But she doesn’t know him. (He’s so many things to so many people  _ he  _ doesn’t even know who he is). And regardless of that, her opinion of him means very little to him. Or at least, it has in the past. But he meant it when he’s said she looks beautiful (maybe more so with bloodshot, sad, eyes) and he’d be a fool to ignore it. It’s too bad she’s so dead set on being the worst kind of girl—the kind that doesn’t care; her own admission.

There’s hope yet, she can be something special:  _ his.  _

He holds the door open for her, the annoying dinging of the bell announcing their entrance. There’s a waitress at the counter, waiting for something to do. Music plays from a jukebox. The mustard yellow and vomit green color combo makes him nauseous; he’d normally never step foot in a place like this, but he’s seen it before. He’s not surprised that she comes to a place like this. All the other tables are either empty or the men sitting over their mugs of coffee are. He steps by Rue, leading the way to a booth at the back of the place where they’re hidden from view but they’re close to the exit. Nate has always been a little paranoid. His natural instinct to protect those he’s not actually trying to manipulate (and Rue would say that’s normally anyone) kicks-in in particularly silent moments. 

The waitress is sweet, and Rue feels Nate’s eyes on her as she talks to them. He hates this place, and she’s not surprised. But even more unsurprising, she’s a little peeved by his holier than thou behavior. Earlier tonight, he had his hand on his winter formal date’s bare ass in a gym full of their peers. Contrarily, she realizes his date allowed such affronting displays. Nate just likes attention. He commands it and takes by force. No one gives a shit in a place like this. 

“So watchu want, Voldemort?” Rue quizzes, smirking into her menu when he looks at her over the top of his own.  _ Really?  _ His inquisitive annoyance is palpable. The 17 year old could laugh. But she doesn’t have the effort to exert. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“I hate those movies,” He replies quickly, but his tone suggests a kind of flippancy only he can muster. “I prefer a different kind of power.” Rue’s mouth pulls up in disgust. “What?” He asks with a laugh. It’s near maniacal. 

The waitress brings their drinks. He ordered a sugary chocolate milkshake—why not? Tonight is a night of wild decisions anyway —and he doesn’t thank her when she sets it in front of him with a smile, calling him  _ Sugar _ . He gives Rue an expectant glance.

“Hi—” she looks at the waitress, reading her name tag. Her name is Maryanne. She looks like the usual type—somewhere between middle aged and old; probably has a few kids. Rue wonders those things. Is everyone as messed up as she is? Are they fortunate enough to know it? “Maryanne… I’ll just have a stack of pancakes. Side of bacon.” 

“Sure thing, Sweets,” She smiles at the teen, turning to Nate and pausing at his contemptuous stare. She figures they’re young, arguing over something her daughters’ and their boyfriends would argue over. And then she realizes she knows this boy, the horrifying rumours she’s heard about him and his last little girlfriend—that tiny thing she’s seen around town. “And you? What’ll it be?”

Nate’s brows furrow upon her change of tone; not that he really cares what any of the small people in his town think about him (he does, but he won’t admit such a thing) and he ignores her. He’ll own her once his father hands over his fortune. Rue folds her arms, smiling to herself. He feels like kicking her beneath the table. It would be counterproductive in the long run however. He hasn’t really fleshed out the idea, but he knows she’ll flee at his first sign of hatred. The star quarterback is still trying to find an angle. Rue isn’t the type for nice, fancy things—clearly—she eats at places like this and wears the same hoodie more than she wears anything else. She’s wearing the offensive article of clothing over her maroon corset and the same slacks she wore to the formal. The hoodie never fails. 

“I’ll have the signature burger, extra curly fries.” He sets the menu on the table, brandishing a bone chilling smile that doesn’t reflect warmly in his eyes. Fake gratuity doesn’t sit well on his face. Maryanne simply nods. She gives Rue’s shoulder a squeeze, one that says she’s only a shout away. 

Rue watches her go, giving a quick and slightly uncomfortable smile. The action feels unnatural—the undercurrent of fear he keeps alive in her has yet to shaken—and she keeps circling back to the very real possibility that something will set him off. She has to be careful here. Because in the last few weeks, it’s become apparent that Jules’ arrival has set his life on its head and he’s been quickly unravelling and now that Maddy is no longer his girlfriend to torment and sleep with…Rue has a feeling he’s looking to set his sights on someone else. 

_ Her _ . 

In a weird way, she’s intrigued by the idea. Amused even. It’s stupid, idiotic, but… it’s a way in too. If she’s going to take his father down, maybe it won’t hurt to keep Nate close. One of them is going to go down no matter what. If she’s going to be the main one—she’s taking the whole Jacobs clan with her. 

In that moment the plan is hatched. And in the single minute she has, she runs through the pros and cons, there aren’t many of either to deter or spur her on. But ultimately she’s decided. No one else is going to do anything. 

But before she can ask him anything else, he’s speaking. 

“You intrigue me, Bennett,” Nate begins. “And you have no one now that your better half is out of the way.” 

His flippant disregard for her relationship with Jules makes her want to bare her teeth. But Rue isn’t one for such open displays of anger; especially with someone as calculated as Nate Jacobs. He doesn’t do anything for free. 

“Next you’re gonna tell me you want to be my friend,” Rue snorts. He doesn’t immediately refute what she says. But she can see the wheels turning in his head. “I don’t need any new friends.” 

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Nate probes. “You think anyone at school gives a shit about you? Fuck making it ten years from now—by the time the prom comes around you’ll be alone again. The way I see it...you need me.” 

“You’ve taken too many hits to the head, Jacobs,” Rue retorts, holding her straw between her fingers. But she can’t hold the self doubt at bay. Everyone else is so caught up in their regular teenage lives, and she’s just the Druggie friend that can’t have fun anymore. He’s right. They’ll drop her. Lexi especially, will get tired of walking her off the ledge or taking her verbal assaults whenever she’s having a rough day. 

“You know I’m right,” Nate smirks, feigning innocence as he sips from his shake. He pushes it towards her. 

“I don’t like chocolate,” she whispers. Why is she volunteering this information to him? Because he’s right. He’s right and she hates it. If not for him, she’d be face down in her bed, high out of her mind. She’s weak, Jules was her reason to be better. And now...now she can’t even breathe without feeling like a part of her is missing. “So...what? What do you want?” 

He shrugs, “I’m just being nice enough to tell you the truth. What would you be doing right now if you weren’t here with me? You need me.” 

“You’re not nice, Jacobs,” Rue swallows thickly, suddenly parched. Why does she feel like the world is closing in on her? Satan himself is sitting across from her...offering what? Friendship? Something worse? Her fight or flight response is doing a really shit job—fumbling this situation terribly. But she has a plan. This will end in disaster, undoubtedly. “You sure you don’t want to just make Maddy jealous and get back at her for dumping you?” 

Anger flashes behind his unnaturally deep eyes, “Who told you that?” He jabs a finger in her face. “She didn’t fuckin’ dump me. I don’t get dumped. Ever.” 

“I forget, the great Nathaniel Jacobs is a god amongst men,” She openly rolls her eyes at him. 

“You know, sarcasm is a real turn off,” Nate returns. 

“So is your unnaturally large sized  _ ego _ , Norman,” She draws in a breath as the breadth of his smirk widens and he actually snorts. 

“Bates or Stansfield?” 

“ _ Yoooou’re _ in..sane,” the chill that runs up her spine makes her toes curl in her shoes. 

“Just going along with the game. And if you’re gonna keep comparing me to tv and movie villains, I wanna know which ones...so we’re on the same wavelength.” He settles his cheek on his enclosed fist. 

“You know I mean it as the furthest thing from a compliment, right?” 

“They say…’We’re all villains in someone else’s story’, Rue. I'm just not stupid enough to think I’m the hero in a single one.” 

She quirks a brow, finding it interesting that he’s not crazy enough to see himself as a hero. Is this worse, somehow? “Not even your own…” 

Nate shakes his, “definitely  _ not _ my own.” He licks his lips, giving her a deathly serious look. “Heroes never do any and everything to win. And there’s nothing I hate more than losing.” 

They both take more of their drinks. And after that, their food arrives. Maryanne is deliberate with her glances at Rue, still making sure that the teen is okay. She’s seen her in here with Ali before. She knows what that means and now she’s here with Nate Jacobs. 

“Can I get more apple juice? Thanks.” 

“Sure thing, Sweets,” Maryanne smiles at her before she’s distracted talking to another patron. 

“This place is tacky,” Nate mutters. 

“You’re a real ass,” Rue doesn’t stop the comment. He’s not going to do anything about it but glare. Which, he has never had a problem doing. He’s never had a problem glaring or checking her out—somehow doing both at the same time. His intentions are clear. He hates her, but he likes her. She’s not stupid; also not very hungry anymore.

She picks up a single piece of bacon and bites into it. She ordered it, and has hated wasting food from even a young age, so she’ll at least pick at her plate. Her depression doesn’t just affect her bladder—which sucks—but her appetite. So she usually force feeds herself even when she doesn’t feel like eating. And she doesn’t need Nate to have something else hanging over her head. She doesn’t need him to know what he just said bothers her. That’s what he wants, isn't it? To effect her in some way. 

But two can play that game. And she’s determined to be better at it than he is. Maddy has always been decent to her though, but she can be catty, and Rue’s not deluded enough to think that there will be anyone willing to listen to her about her reasons for getting involved with Nate. But she’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do, right? Taking them down. Nate played Jules, framed Tyler Clarkson, and then used them both when it was beneficial to him. He deserves a little heartbreak. She didn’t ask for this, but she didn’t tell him to stop. And Fez’s threat didn’t have the desired effect. Nate doesn’t respond to words but action. And she’ll give it, maybe not in the form of a knife to her own forearm, something worse. And Cal? Mr. Jacobs deserves to rot in hell. Not for exploring sexuality, but for sleeping with (too) young men and women without a care in the world until it was too late—damage done—and Jules was before him, at the chili stand; ruining any chance his family has had at being normal; teaching Nate how to be a manipulative person and a violently toxic pseuo-teenager. He’s nurtured Nate’s violent behavior and called it the pathway to his future. 

No, she’s making sure everyone gets justice. And she’s going to have to dig deep to stomach it. 

  
  


.

.

.

There’s a very small window of opportunity to get out of this, and it’s already passed. Rue sits in the Nate’s truck, fully aware that she’s going to regret her decision to play Nancy Drew. But it’s for a good reason, all of this is for a good reason. 

The music is playing in the background, his stereo is crisp. It sounds expensive. Everything about the football player oozes money. But he can’t take his wealth with him to  _ hell.  _ Thankfully she’ll get a ticket there all on her own. 

He’s given up arguing with her about her shoes on his seat. And she’s not wearing her seatbelt either; which he noted at the last light they came across before pulling into the parking lot of the cheap hotel. 

“Should I be offended that you brought me here, and not your house?” She quirks a perfectly done brow at him. Jules took her for winter formal and then took her home and told her about Anna while doing her makeup. That had been a very confusing hour of her life. 

He actually laughs at that, not in a way that sounds gross, but genuinely amused. Though, she can’t imagine why he finds that funny. “I wasn’t going home tonight anyways,” he pulls into his assigned parking space (she’s kind of stunned a place like this has a parking lot that’s organized) and he looks at her, cutting the engine. “But I wouldn’t take  _ you _ home either.” 

“You know...sometimes you should really just fuckin’ shut up,” she snaps at him. He looks amused. If he were in a bad mood, she’s not sure he wouldn’t backhand her. She’d bite him, or kick him, or not fight back at all. Regardless, she’d end up in a ditch somewhere…probably. She  _ still _ can. 

“Bruh,” He hangs his head backwards with a groan, “Just get outta the truck,” He commands it. So she takes her time doing it. She’s really tired, and the promise of a bed, without having to answer a million of her mother’s questions tonight sounds like heaven. Even if the devil himself will be sharing a pillow, she just wants to pour herself into bed. 

She grabs her bag, hands tightening on the strap as she moves to stand in front of the vehicle. She stands on the partition, balancing on it as Nate does what he needs to. He’s swimming around in the center console, looking for something for a few slow moments when she turns to look at the building. Now that she’s standing there and looking at it, it’s not that bad. She knows some shit has gone down here though, she’s not dumb enough to think legit businessmen or billionaires are staying here. No this is the kind of place you crash in when you don’t want to be found. And it’s not a stretch to imagine that Nate doesn’t want to be found here. 

How many times did Maddy schlep all the way over here—to the other side of town—just to see this maniac? 

She turns back to him, the headlights are still on. He’s  _ still  _ in the car, “Is this what you told me to get out for? Just so I have to stand here and wait for you!?” She snaps at him, losing her temper. “Get out of the truck!” 

“Don’t yell at me,” Nate warns, though he’s doing what she commands of him.“You’ll end up figuring out how you’re gonna make your sorry ass back to your house.” He slams his door shut, and reaches into the back for a bag gym bag. He’d gotten ready for winter formal at home after the game but packed his bag full of fresh clothes before his parents had gotten home. He’d slapped a few twenty dollar bills at some random freshman to ask his dad for some football tips. His dad can never pass up the chance to turn any conversation into an ode back to his high school heyday. 

“Fuck you, dude,” Rue rolls her eyes, adjusting her bag. “I didn’t ask you to pick me up.” 

“But you got in. And you haven’t stopped complaining since then. Shut the fuck up already,” He rolls his eyes at her indignation. 

(Her brows furrow when she’s thinking of something to say. And her jaw finally relaxes when she can’t really think of something just as biting.)

_ Another round for him. _ But he’s kind of shocked she hasn’t hit him or at least gone for his throat. She’s actually had plenty of opportunity to maim him especially when they’d been at her spot earlier. She’d been given one of the sharper butter knives he’s seen—a gift from Maryanne—and he saw her sneak it up her sleeve before they left. Well too bad he won’t be falling asleep before her tonight. It’s pushing 3:30am now. But he can make it. 

“Are we gonna stand out here all night?” She fidgets uncomfortably, getting off the wheel-stop. 

“Don’t wanna be seen with me?” He questions with a snort. 

“Actually, no I don’t.” She heads for the elevator, passing a vending machine. She stops, pulling a dollar bill out of the front pocket of her backpack. She has a dollar left. But she goes back towards the glowing machine. 

“It’s gonna get stuck,” Nate says, sounding exhausted already. She ignores him and starts the transaction. She goes for a bag of Doritos. She hadn’t finished her pancakes and she brought them with, the plastic bag sits on the floor—which Nate finds gross, but she’s slept in worse places—and there’s deathly tense silence between them now. The chips get stuck on the rotor. 

“Fuck.” 

“I told you,” Nate sighs. 

“ _ Fuck off.”  _ She grits out, teeth clenched as she starts to hit the machine.  _ No, no, no.  _ Not because she really  _ wants  _ the chips (a snack for later won’t be bad) but because the tall fucker behind her had been right. 

“just move,” Nate steps by her, knocking into her shoulder and she shoves him back. He turns to her sharply, as of to strike her, but he doesn’t. She holds her chin high. Is he really going to take her out over a shove? Why do these moments seem to fly by in slow motion? A shove that he’s been asking for literally all night; with every snide remark and mean look. “Don’t play with me, Bennett.” 

“Or  _ what?”  _ She’s not dumb enough to think he’s not like a wild animal and she’s prey. He has at least 80 pounds on her. He could toss her across the parking lot. But she remembers the knife that she stuck in her bag before he’d gotten back in the truck. Then with resignation, she understands that It won’t be of much help to her now. She refuses to take a step back. 

He clenches and unclenches his jaw and leans to whisper in her ear, deathly close, “I’ll eat your chips.” 

When he pulls back, her pupils are blown with fear, despite her best efforts to keep her expression impassive. He reaches back to shake the vending machine. The chips fall into the basket in the bottom and he bends down to push the flap back and take the bag of chips. With intention, he shoves them at her. 

“I hate you,” Rue mutters, though her voice quivers. She chants to herself. She’s doing this to find proof to take to the cops. She needs proof. None of what Jules showed her has his or Cal’s faces. Everything she knows serves only as conjecture, considering Jules is gone. Her sweet Jules; her reason for staying clean. 

_ ‘It’s been nearly a month now. Give or take a week. Definitely take the week...probably.  _

_ I can’t fuckin’ remember. I should give a shit about that.’ _

“Yeah, I don’t like you either,” He turns toward the lift again, adjusting the strap of his bag. As it opens, he walks by it just as a group of women get off and move by them. Nate makes a face and continues on to the stairs. Rue isn’t at all surprised to see the group turn to look at him. It doesn’t take much to imagine what they do. Boy, the show they’d just missed. 

She gets on the elevator while he’s taking the stairs. 

“You can do this, you can do this,” she whispers to herself. “You’re getting revenge. You have to do this. You can do this.” Is she being paranoid talking to herself? Yeah. This is  _ stupid. STUPID.  _ But she’s here now, she has no one to call, she doesn’t have her bike. Walking through the streets right now, because she doesn’t have any money for a cab or an Uber, is probably just as dangerous as getting off this elevator. 

It’s too late to change her mind. Nate is standing there waiting when the lift dings and the doors open. He rolls his eyes and wordlessly heads towards his room. He doesn’t look to make sure she’s following. But he probably should because there are security cameras here and if she goes missing? It’s  _ his _ ass. 

He stops and waits for her to catch up. He’s a couple doors down. They can see his Silverado parked in the lot. The truck has become a symbol of his perceived—and actual—power. 

She’s momentarily distracted, until he’s dragging her by the hand away from the center of the hall—she collides with his side. She looks up, mid pulling her hand away when she notices the gentleman coming towards them down the same lane. These halls aren’t very wide and he doesn’t seem to care regardless. She’s tall and thin enough that his weight would have knocked her over the balcony. Before she can even process that Nate pulled her out of her reverie and the way, he gives her a glance filled with attitude so she swallows the thank you and keeps going. She feels stiff, now she’s aware that their hands fit together. 

Once they reach the end of the hall, he pushes the key into the door and proceeds into the room. Tossing his bag on the bed, he ignores that she’s still standing in the doorway. Honestly, he feels he already has claws in her, if she wants to wander off and get herself into whatever; he’ll still find her. 

“Come in or don’t, just shut the door,” his stare feels as if it can wilt the strongest of brush, and her first instinct is to step away. But against her better judgement, she enters. This is the third time she’s actively disregarded a godsend sign to leave. Still not taking it. “I don’t need everyone knowing this is where I’m at.”

“What, don’t wanna be seen with me?” She flips his words on him, smirking to herself as he rolls his eyes at her. She thinks back to the dance, flipping both middle fingers at him That was satisfying, who would have thought she’d willingly end up in his motel room? Not her, definitely not her. 

He starts to pull clothes out of his bag as she finally closes the door. It’s a bigger room, what she assumes is a suite around these parts. She collapses on the couch, noting the depressing decor and the unmade bed. The do not disturb sign probably hasn’t been moved from the door since he’s been staying here. But other than the unkempt bed—which she definitely can’t judge—the place is almost spotless. 

“How long have you been here?” She asks, without really meaning to. They’re not friends, he doesn’t have friends of the opposite sex, or at all. But despite her inner back and forth, he considers an answer and looks back at her. 

“A while,” He undoes his tye, tossing it to the bed. 

Unable to really take the tension between them, she sighs heavily, “I don’t really know what you’re after…” 

“I already told you,” he replies before she can finish. 

“Yeah,” Rue swallows the thick discontentment stuck in her. “You think I need you. But I don’t even like you, Jacobs.” 

“What if I told you...that I don’t believe you?” He quirks a bushy brow at her. “I saw you looking at me all night,” he comes closer, sitting on the couch next to her. 

Rue scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I don’t trust you. Your whole vibe—“ 

“Yet here you are,” he tosses his arm behind her head, atop the back of the couch. He stares in her eyes, an uncomfortable talent he pulls on everyone. She wonders if he  _ knows  _ how disconcerting he is. But he is right, she’s swallowing down her instinct to run, and is still beside him. His hand creeps to her thigh, and she grips it before he gets any higher than where it’s settled. He looks her in her eyes and watches her force herself to relax. Nate’s lips are dangerously close to her ear when he whispers “So, what do  _ you _ want, Rue?” 

She has a split second to decide who will be in control here and so she chooses to catch him off guard. Surging forward, she kisses him harshly, hoping it’s hard enough to bruise. It will pale in comparison to the pain he’s caused everyone else around him. However, he smirks into the kiss, and sucks her bottom lip between his teeth. 

With an embarrassing ease, she retaliates by biting him. He chuckles, snaking his hand to the nape of her neck and tugging. In another world, this is probably a moment shared between people with a mutual attraction and nothing else. But Rue hates him in this moment; the cursed smoothness of his lips and the way she’s fighting to maintain her control. 

The kiss becomes a battle of dominance, a clash of teeth and tongue that steals her breath away and makes him second guess his motivations here. For years, he’s held on to her rejection freshman year. But she’s not recoiling now, nor slapping him across the face. Actually, he’s growing aroused by her growing frustration. He can feel her fighting it, but he knows he has her. He has her right where he wants her; between frustration and want. 

Rue pulls away then, the sound of the disconnect breaks through the relative silence. She stumbles to her feet, nearly careening over the coffee table. She’s still lankier than is considered  _ attractive,  _ and sometimes feels very much out of control of her limbs—which has driven her a little crazy since she hit puberty—but despite her thinness, she has curves in the right places. She’s all leg, which he hasn’t thought attractive on anyone else. Mostly, girls who don’t tick any of the boxes on his list are useless to him...but this situation is different. 

Rue’s chest heaves as she stands and stares at him and suddenly her corset is too tight. It’s too hot in his room, he’s too close, this is a bad idea. 

_ What the _ ** _ fuck? _ **

She takes a step back as he stands and gets closer. Nate isn’t just tall, he  _ looms _ over her; a rarity with the boys her age. Added to his height, is his bulk—he’s mostly muscle and a chill runs down her spine upon the realization just how  _ big  _ he is. She stands at 5’10 herself, and just barely makes it past his shoulders. She’s been attracted to boys and girls, maybe as long as she’s been interested in dating—which is actually rare considering the more pressing issues she’s faced and/or welcomed upon herself—and she would have to be blind to not notice his looks. He uses it to his advantage, obviously; a pretty package encouraging people to ignore how twisted he actually is. He steps closer and she loses her footing and collapses on the bed, only catching herself on her hands to keep from being totally vulnerable. She’s not delusional; she knows he can have his way with her if he truly wants to. The knife in her bag is too far now. He kicks off his dress shoes and discards of them haphazardly. 

He traces her face with his thumb, pressing it to her lips until she widens her mouth. She narrows her eyes at him, looking in his face. There’s a concentration there she’s yet to see until this moment. She sucks on his finger, knowing why he’s doing it. She’s given enough blowjobs to unworthy boys—coerced by another—all from a younger age to know how this works. She shouldn’t have. He’s going to be another. 

“Are you a virgin?” He asks, head cocked to the side. He looks absolutely predatory as he licks his lips. Rue wonders if this is how Jules felt when she’d met with his father. She feels sick, this behavior runs in the family. She’s eye to eye with the bulge in his pants. Her eyes reach his again, and the self satisfied smirk on his face is enough to make her want to punch him. 

“ _ No _ ,” she thinks back to the experience of losing her virginity—how unsatisfying it was, and screwed up it really was that she can never take that moment back and remember it with something more than feigned indifference. She hasn’t been with many people, but she’s heard enough, being  _ friends _ with the group of girls who don’t think they’re too good to associate with her (for now). And the long and short of it is that most teenage boys are simple, and easily distracted. Nate however, is very particular. 

(Maddy will probably die when she finds out about this. Nate won’t hide it—that much she knows. She also knows the answer he wanted to hear, and she is satisfied knowing he can’t take that from her and claim it as conquest. )

He shakes with the intention of retaliatory remark, but the words die on his tongue as she sits up straighter and begins to move forward. His heart stops in anticipation, but she doesn’t reach for him, but her shoes. She unlaces them slowly before kicking them off. The black and white chucks have seen better days. Leaning back on her hands, she opens her knees and pulls Nate forward by the waist of his boxers. Looking up at him, she shrugs, “And I think you’ll just have to get over it, big boy.” 

She’s not at all thrilled to be here, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care at all. But she’s been here before with other boys, and it’s just another thing she’ll swallow down and deal with. He doesn’t care. And this is just one way she’ll get closer to him, to her endgame of ruining his life like he has with so many others. Nate responds to violence in the same matter he does any other challenge, with more violence. But she thinks he’s a rather emotional person, and he hates it. She plans to exploit it. Maddy’s complaints about him has taught her much. And if she can wrap him around her finger, willingly doing what he doesn’t expect, her plan will work. 

Nate laughs, and she can’t tell if he’s in disbelief or laughing  _ at  _ her. Indignation crosses her emotions, but he’s starting to strip off his shirt and she doesn’t have time to be angry before he’s pushing her jacket off her slender shoulders. 

He is pleasantly surprised by the smoothness of her skin. She’s warm and her skin is flushed. He doesn’t care that it’s probably from a good amount of hatred and anger. He draws her to her feet, and she’s shorter now that she’s barefoot. He’s going to drag this out before he throws her down and has his way with her. 

“Take this off,” He demands, pulling at the top of her corset. 

“It’s a zipper,” she rolls her eyes, though she can’t swallow down the breathless quality to her voice in the moment. Her heart is pounding in her chest, a mix of dread but anticipation. The teen wasn’t sure she could feel both at the same time. But… she’s a little curious about what he’s like in bed—is he capable of inflicting pleasure with as much deliberation as he does pain? A little bit of her wants to wash away her last sexual experience with a boy. 

He unzips her and the material falls away, landing in the heap where her jacket had been. 

Nate’s breath catches as she turns around. She feels even more nervous under his gaze but forces herself to stand proudly. She doesn’t  _ feel  _ beautiful or attractive, but it’s never been a priority before. Not before she started to wonder if Jules liked her, thought she was pretty, loved her… she’s never felt like the picture of  _ hot.  _ She expects a cruel word or two from Nate, who’s has oddly gone quiet.

Her anger flares, “ _ What _ ?” 

He reaches for her, and she pushes at his chest as he draws her closer. He moves too quickly and has had to rush to keep up. She hates that. 

But his skin is warm, and smoother than she anticipated. For some reason, it’s been easier to imagine he’d be cold, to reflect the cruelty he can dish out. Once she’d uncovered his plots—after obsessing—she’s started to see him as some sort of evil zombie. There’s no way a human being can be as cruel as he is. 

It’s hard to convince her body the same thing. 

_ Wait...Rue, d-don’t! Get the fuck outta this room.  _

He crushes his lips to hers again, and she melts in his arms. The kiss is frantic and suddenly she can’t get close enough to him. She wants to hide. She’ll never be able to take this back, and crowds even closer, maybe if the earth opens up to finally swallow her whole, she can take him with. 

Nate grips her throat, then moves to entangle his hand in the curls at the nape of her neck again. His left hand claims her hip, giving a squeeze. She is breathless but stiff, unsure of where to put her hands other than where they’re stuck on his chest. Every muscle in his body is coiled, waiting to release the control he’s demanded the entire night. But he wants to find out how she ticks, to see how far he has to push before she’s mush in his hands. 

He slides his hand from her waist up to just beneath her breast. They’re small but perfectly round and mostly fill his hands. He flicks her nipple with his thumb, and her breath hitches. The quarterback chortles. He slips his tongue into her mouth upon her gasp not thinking much on if it’s from anger or pleasure. She’s still sweet like maple syrup and apple juice. 

He’s having a bit too much fun, enjoying her stilted reactions. And mentally this has become a bit of a game to him. 

With relative ease, he undoes her pants and pushes her panties down with them; they pool at her feet. Her legs are slender and toned, as is most of her body. He knows it’s not from any of her own conscious doing. There’s no way she’s ever stepped foot in a gym. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think she was hot. She’s not too thin, as he’s thought in the past. But she’s really in need of a wax. He grunts, having to ignore it. It doesn’t matter. This isn’t real. He has no intention of getting too involved. She didn't have to be perfect, but simply distracted. He’ll still fuck her. He’ll drive her insane. And maybe, he’ll enjoy it. 

Nate drags her down on the bed, tossing her as she weighs nothing compared to himself. He can see it disorients her, and he takes too much pleasure in that, but what’s she going to do? He has her right where she needs to be. The teen thought her much stronger than she actually is. This is no work at all. 

Rue can feel herself wanting to  _ scream.  _ She pulls herself closer to the headboard. She’s never this vulnerable with anyone. And she’s embarrassed by how easily she’s given in to him. 

Jules will probably hate her, forever. That’s if she ever comes back. 

“Come here,” Nate commands, grabbing her ankle, and pulling her to the edge of the bed again. He takes her hands and places them at the waistband of his boxers. “Take them off.” He says, with a stilted voice. 

She swallows thickly, “Your hands aren’t broken.” His resolve cracks and he wants to bark another command at her. But he’s too far gone now. Though for this to play out to his advantage, she has to find some sort of pleasure. She’s naked, he’s frustrated and needs a release. Intentionally teasing him, Rue bites her lip. She could laugh. She has him in the palm of her hand, soon literally and figuratively. She laughs at him, out right, and he grabs her face. She stares up at him, “Testy.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he rolls his eyes. 

Rue snorts, and he actually smiles. It looks out of place on his face. Her hands settle at his hips again, and she decides to just bite the bullet. She finally releases him from his boxers. And the pictures she saw in Jules phone didn’t do much to really show what he was working with. It feels like a really inappropriate time to think of her almost-girlfriend but...she can’t help it. Her cheeks warm and she’s sure he thinks it’s because she’s overly impressed. He’s painfully hard at this point, and doesn’t care much for anymore preamble. 

“Well…” He goads, looking at her expectantly. 

With a roll of the eyes, she takes him in hand first, and a shiver runs through him. She hasn’t even touched him properly and he looks ready to fall over, though, he’ll never cop to such a thing. She runs her thumb over the tip as she really considers what she’s doing. And why she’s doing it. She can’t think too long or it will really start to fuck with her. Rue wets her lips, never looking away from him as she does it. 

He swallows hard and it’s the first obvious reaction he’s given her. With a few precursory licks, one from base to tip, she hollows her cheeks and takes him as far as he can fit. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Nate husks, and their eyes connect. just as his head lulls backward. She hasn’t done this in a while, and her eyes water when his dick hits the back of her throat. She pulls back, holding his hips in place so he doesn’t completely obliterate her mouth. She never enjoyed this, having been too young to have experimented when she had. But part of her is listening to Nate’s reactions. 

He moans loud as she swirls her tongue, using her hands to touch him where her tongue and slick mouth can’t reach. It’s not long before she starts to work faster, in hopes that maybe he’ll cum and the ordeal will be over. But, she’s unlucky. He does seem pleased though, if his chanting is anything to go by. 

_ Fuck, fuck, fu— _

She looks up at him, his eyes are closed, mouth open. She sucks and licks, and swirls her tongue and learns what makes him moan until he’s on shaky legs. She touches and teases until he’s putty in her hands. Nate grabs the back of her head, holding her still once he feels himself close to the taunting edge. Her lips smack loudly as she pulls back. 

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hands as he regains some composure. His erection still stands proudly as Nate does. He looks at her then, with half lidded eyes. 

“Do I get a gold star?” She asks sarcastically. 

“Shut up,” it has no bite to it, and there’s no insult attached. She’s surprised. She once heard someone say blowjobs are the key to compliant men. She hasn’t tested the theory until tonight. 

“Do you need a minute...or are you gonna finish what you started?” She asks, sounding bored. That spurs him to action. In her head, she’s keeping score; she’s ahead on the cards. 

Rue giggles aloud, and he takes it to mean she’s at least moved by his approach. She’s not; not really. But they’ve gotten this far; she’s going all the way, as she does with pretty much everything she shouldn’t. 

Nate falls over her, supporting his own weight with one arm as his free hand surges between her legs. With a frown, he realizes she’s not as wet as she should be. And that’s not the point here. 

“Just kiss me,” she says softly. There’s a pleading to her voice that he can’t possibly mistake for anything else. But he’s doing what she asks before either of them can put words to the sudden change in the air. 

He hasn’t had someone new since Maddy, and Rue hasn’t done this since she was 15. 

Nate kisses her with a newfound softness, now as he ghosts his fingers over her body. She imagines she’s somewhere else, with someone she hates less. And as she starts to relax, she reaches for him on her own, mapping the planes of his body with her tired, but soft hands. She sighs as their tongues dance, and flirt. She lets him lead, finally. 

Nate squeezes her hip, pressing himself closer to her. He sucks on her neck, kissing her collarbones and licks the valley between her breasts. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, making her moan. He smirks and continues to tease her. He finds the touches and places that make her shiver, and with every one he can feel her resolve breaking. He’s definitely winning this exchange tonight—in more ways than one—and when he’s good and ready, when he’s sunk his claws deep enough, he’ll be done with her. 

It doesn’t take long before she’s putty, breathing hard. He sits back on his knees, between her legs. He keeps his eyes on hers as he uses his fingers on her. Her chocolatey eyes are half closed, and her mouth falls open when he presses his thumb to her clit. She widens her legs, and he bends forward to grab her by the hips and pull her lower. He presses one thick, long finger inside of her, curving the stroke, going slow. He adds another and she bites her lip to keep from moaning. 

“ _ Shit… _ ” This can’t be happening, she thinks. But it is, and she’s here with Nate Jacobs. And she’s scared, and aroused, and guilty of this. She can’t take this back. Will she want to?  _ God,  _ she hopes she will. Her thoughts seize as she feels the taut coil in her abdomen tighten; all she can do is try to breathe. She doesn’t want to cry out, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But when he massages her clit with just the right amount of pressure, her resolve completely falls to the wayside. She feels high. And thinks of all the times she’s done this herself, sadly, it compares better than she’ll ever admit. 

“Finally, you’ve shut the fuck up,” he quips, chuckling as he removes his fingers from her. 

“Stop talking,” she sighs, pressing her hands to her face. She’s too far gone to be holding a conversation. “I still hate you.” When she looks at him again, removes his hand, giving himself a few pumps before he aligns himself with her entrance. 

“I know,” he says, sinking inside of her with a heavy push. He’s not taking her the way he usually would, and he’s not quite sure why not. But, those are for musings another time. He doesn’t go slow, or give her much time to adjust. He simply pulls out and pushes back in again with a grunt. 

Rue bites back any words she has to give him. She grips his arms, forcing herself to breathe. He fills her in a way the last boy definitely didn’t. It disgusts her to admit Nate doesn’t have the body of a boy. But a man. 

His thrusts aren’t rough or wild, but she can tell he doesn’t care about what she feels at the moment. But she tries to let her mind go blank, to imagine he’s anyone else. Someone from her reality tv shows. There are plenty of options from Love Island, alone. 

For her own benefit, she pulls him down to smash her lips to his. He’s a good kisser, when it’s not a competition. His lips are soft and smooth and he knows what he’s doing. 

Their bodies are slick with a thin sheen, he can taste the salt of her skin when he sucks a dark mark on her neck. It will sit proudly for at least a week. He pulls away, looking down where he’s sinking and disappearing into her. The angle isn’t quite right, she’s not doing this right. “Like this…” He says, taking her leg and lifting it to the right angle. Her left leg follows suit and she grips his waist with her thighs. 

He sinks deeper, and she feels it differently, earning a groan. Nate grunts and lets the stroke slow, only slam back into her. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Nate…” she whispers, without meaning to. She closes her eyes tight, as he hits the same spot over and over, relentlessly. She sighs, and moans as he continues. He runs his hands all over her, squeezing her breasts in his palm, tugging and dragging, kissing her neck, tasting her skin. He drags his teeth along her collar, biting her shoulder and she returns the favor. 

Nate growls, his grip bruising her hips as he slams into her. Her body burns, a mix of pleasure and pain. She feels the sign of orgasm again, and without a care, she starts to pant and mewl. She presses her hand between their bodies, fingers working at her clit as he continues to thrust. The new sensation nearly drives her over the cliff. Nate’s control starts to slip at the sight of her beneath him, touching herself, moaning. 

She sees white, the intensity of all the sensations send her careening into her orgasm with shouts of gibberish. She’s always had to be quiet in her room by herself. Here, she doesn’t care. What she’s doing is wrong, and it’s not a good idea to be here. But here she is, fucking Nate Jacobs who hates her, and she hates in turn. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong. 

She realizes, she doesn’t care. And has he pulls out and cums on her thigh with no regard, eyes closed and his mouth open with soft moans, she realizes the weight of her mistake. 

He opens his eyes, looking down at her for a split second, before he surges forward to kiss her. They’re a tangle of limbs and they’re a mess, and what they’ve done...it’s the beginning of the end for them both. 

  
  
  



	2. It continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rue and Nate, Nate and Rue. 
> 
> Jules, still gone.
> 
> Cal Jacobs, still creepy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh, thought this would wrap up in a nice little three-parter. As I tend to be, I was wrong. And while the world is going to shit in this pandemic, it seems we'll all have the time any way. 
> 
> I hope you're all being safe in your homes, enjoying the endless fanfic. 
> 
> Also I'm too lazy to go back and make sure these two fools aren't in the same grade so we'll call it creative license.

_ Monday always rolls around too quickly. _

_ Jules still isn’t back, I haven’t heard from her. I’ve sent her over 20 texts. And I don’t think she’s even opened them. _

_ The weekend felt like a fever dream. I spent Sunday at the hotel with Nate. Mostly I was hiding from the reality of fuckin’ fucking Nate Jacobs. If we could hide away there, no one knowing where we were, then I could pretend it wasn’t the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever done. _

_ And I’ve done ketamine. _

_ But now it’s Monday. And Gia knocking on my door to tell me to get the hell up for school was a painful dose of reality. _

_ \- _

Rue pulls her hood over her hair; hiding her neatly braided cornrows her mother did for her the night before—hiding herself away. The crushing reality that Jules isn’t back...it scares her half to death and reminds her that she’s alone. 

Leslie took the opportunity to quiz her child about the boy who dropped her off, and the obvious hickies on her neck. 

_ “I don’t like you running around out there like you ain’t got no home training, Rue.” Her mother had warned. “Don’t be sneaking in this house thinking I don’t know what you’re up to!” _

She submitted herself to another drug test. It only took her two days to shatter what little trust her mother had in her again, after her short two weeks of being clean. Like really. But not all hope is lost. Fezco still isn’t answering her calls, or opening his door for her. And she’d flushed her drugs down the toilet once she returned home. So she’s pretty stuck. And her mood has been plummeting. 

Today is going to suck. 

She’s walking down the halls, towards her locker when Kat joins her. “You look like hell, bitch.” Rue is momentarily startled but overall, recovers well. 

“I _ feel _ like hell,” the two teens continue down the hall. Rue spent all night dreading today. She hasn’t heard from Nate since she last saw him and that’s probably a very good thing; considering she has no idea what she’s supposed to say to him. But surprisingly, she’s handling the sex well. There’s no words between them in those moments. 

He eagerly claimed her, mapping a trail of touch all over her skin as she clawed, hoping it would hurt just a little. She hates how much she found herself enjoying his touch. In a sick part of her, she enjoyed it even more, being annoyed and pleasured. 

“You're here early,” Kat comments absently. It’s not a stretch to imagine Rue will stroll in late, slinking to the back of whatever room, hoping to disappear. 

“G needed to retake a test. I gave her a ride.” 

Kat makes a face, “Your mom lets you drive?” 

“Only to school or if I’m taking Gia,” Rue’s mouth pulls into a thin line upon Kat’s realization that the line of questioning is a little rude. They both know...Rue doesn’t have a great track record when it comes to responsibility, driving has been...struck as a means of regular transportation. Without word, and making it worse, Rue puts in her locker combo. Kat opens her mouth to apologize but from the locker, out falls a bag of _Doritos_. “Son of a bitch…” 

If it were anyone else, this would be a hilarious and sweet gesture. But it’s Nate, definitely Nate. And all she can think is that he broke into the office, and found her locker combo. It’s a power play. And her blood pressure raises—tension pulsing in her temples. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Bennett,” Kat comments, looking down at her as she bends to pick up the _ family sized _bag of chips. “Is there a party or something—“

“No,” Rue shakes her head, shoving the bag back into her locker. But she can’t get them to fit now that she puts her books away. She gives up on putting the bag back. “Do you want ‘em?” 

“I’m...good,” she says, brows furrowed as she considers the older girl. “How was the rest of the formal? I cut out early.” 

“Yeah, I heard,” she gives the newly liberated girl, and blossoming teen a knowing look. “It was fine I guess. I left early too.” 

“You and Jules…” Kat teases. “Everyone knows you're in love. It’s cute.” She looks around and finally notes that the blond isn’t with Rue. “Where _is_ she?” 

Rue sucks in a breath, “I uh...I haven’t heard from her.” A sharp pang hits her chest. She does love Jules. And she’s not here. 

“What? Did you guys get into a fight or something?” 

“No,” Rue lies. Well, they didn’t really fight. They didn’t have time to fight, there on the platform before Jules left. She still hasn’t processed it, nor can she stop worrying that something has happened. She knows it’s more likely that Jules has been hanging out with Anne and is just angry with her for not leaving with her. 

She doesn’t have time to explain further, as the warning bell sounds. 

“Shit,” Kat looks at her. “I’m not gonna make it across in time. I’ll see you at lunch!” 

Rue snorts besides thinking of Jules. She sighs heavily as she makes it closer and closer towards her class. She’s set to pass the hallway where Nate’s locker is, and where he mostly hangs out before his first period commences. Since he’s a senior and she’s a junior, the only class they share is their homeroom—simply because they were assigned to the same school counselor at the beginning of the year—and whenever he skips whatever class to be in lunch with Maddy, and subsequently her. 

(Maddy’s locker isn’t too far from there, and in turn she knows Cassie and Lexi will probably be close by. She hasn’t heard from them since the formal. Everyone texted her to see where she’d been since her mother had called asking if they’d seen her. It’s still embarrassing two days later. The old, my phone died excuse doesn’t really cut it when she has problems with the truth the way she does. )

“Hey,” she hears, looking up to find Nate stalking towards her. She steps back a step, but he takes her wrist and whips her back heavily into his locker. 

“Dude, what the _ fuck!” _Her eyes burn with anger. But he catches her off guard, arm posted by her head with a heavy thud on the locker door. Because of his aggressive behavior, the hall seems to freeze, no one knowing just what the relationship between them has become. Until now, it’s been mostly long—blazing—stares. He dips his head to kiss her, without a care. But he’s all for display. He knows people can see them. His lips pressed to hers gets to her for a moment, and as he sucks her bottom lip, her hand settles on his chest. The murmuring reaching a fever pitch pulls Rue out from his spell; she pushes him away, hand strongly on his pectoral. “What are you doing?!” 

  
  


He laughs, showing his charmingly imperfect teeth, “What? I can’t kiss you now?” 

“_ No _,” She looks around nervously as she still pushes him back. Though despite that, sickly, her blood rushes. He has a way of terrifying and calling to her. And she hates it. But this isn’t for nothing. She has a plan. She needs to get close to him to get close to Cal—who knows what she knows. It’s idiotic but it’s all she’s got. Seeing her distracted, which he can’t stand, Nate slams his hand into the locker by her head. Without a flinch, the girl stares directly at him. “Is that supposed to scare me?” 

(She has a theory, one that suggests he’s used to being the craziest, scariest person in the room. But she can play that game. Being unfazed is the only card she has to play.) 

“Did you get my gift?” He asks, with a smirk. 

She rolls her eyes, “The dollar bag of Doritos in a locker you broke into? Yeah...loved it.” 

He snorts at this, shaking his head. “You have a gratitude problem, you know that?” 

“We’re gonna be late for class,” She says, and as she does so, the final bell rings. They both realize the hallways pretty much cleared once kids realized he wasn’t actually trying to hurt her. Or at least, she wasn’t actually complaining—not that they’d do anything. Rue doesn’t have anyone jumping to defend her anyways. 

He opens his locker, pulling out a simple pencil case. Opening it, he removes a pencil and tucks it into his pocket. They never need books in first period, but sometimes there will be oddball work they’re given. It’s dumb. 

Nate drags her down the hallway, his hand clenching hers no matter if she wants to be out of his hold. Rue gives up. But not without goading him into debate. “Are you trying to break my hand?” 

“You walk slow,” he says. 

“And you’re an ass,” Rue pulls her hand out of his hold, but it’s not like it makes a difference. He throws his head back, turning to look at her again. 

“What, Rue?” He puts his hands on his hips. Why is she making this so difficult? As if he didn’t have her under him the entire weekend. His anger flares. She has no right to be ashamed of him, he’s the one with everything to lose. She’s a nobody. He’s the quarterback lowering his standards. 

“What are you trying to do?” She asks, finally asking him what she’s been meaning to get to. She hadn’t meant to let this bleed into school—not so soon before she has her defense mapped out. She doesn’t like being the center of attention. 

Nate advances, without the words to explain, he settles for grabbing her face in his hands and kissing her hard. He hopes it's convincing. The way her lithe body tenses, hands reaching for his where they’ve settled on her cheeks. She starts to kiss him back, rising on her toes to relieve the tension growing in her neck from craning backward from the pressure he’s bearing down on her. 

When he opens his eyes, hers have long fluttered shut. Rue entangles her hands in his perfectly styled hair, tugging back angrily now that she’s let him get his way. She shouldn’t look at it that way, he’s giving her opportunity. 

With a self satisfied smirk, he kisses her until they’re breathless; both standing in the long abandoned halls. They’re looking at detention for sure, kissing in the hallways while they’re going to miss at least 10 minutes of class. 

Once he pulls away, he stares down at her. She doesn’t think for one second that the look in his eyes is anything more than self-fulfilling pride in his ability to shut her the hell up. 

“I thought we settled this… you know, after I had you screaming my name,” Nate smirks as he looks down. With one swift movement he’s looking at her again, feigning innocence he’s not actually capable. 

“You’re a pig,” Rue rolls her eyes and turns away from him. Her hands find the straps of her backpack. 

“I’m trying to be _ your _ pig.” 

Rue rolls her eyes. “That’s not what you said. I need you remember? I thought you’d hold on to that,” she doesn’t miss the chance to rub his nose in the nonsense. “But I think you were just bored.” 

“And I still got in your pants,” he shrugs. As she glares at him, he tugs at the hem of her father’s hoodie. “Don’t you have better rags to wear?” 

“Don’t you have a wall you should be running your fists through?” She snaps, nostrils flaring with her frustration. 

Nate, having gotten the reaction he wanted to get out of her, grabs her face in one hand, squeezing slightly to keep a hold of her. “You’re _really_ beautiful when you’re angry.” 

  
  


“Well then I should be fuckin’ stunning,” Rue renches herself free, but he grabs the back of her bag and whips her back towards him. Before she can catch her footing, he backs her up towards the bare wall, just by the staircase they need to climb to get to their classroom. 

Nate presses close, both hands caging her in, “You are.” She leers up at him, her eyes narrowing in disbelief of the compliment or it’s sincerity. She’s obviously not used to hearing such words of confirmation. And he knows he’s telling her what she needs to hear in order to be endeared to him. “I mean it.” 

He does, but he’s not so open with it simply to tell her. His motives are wildly insincere. Deep down he knows that she at least _ suspects _ that too. He takes his eyes off her face, down to her chest. She’s not wearing a bra. But with cute, perky beasts as hers are, she doesn’t have to. He’s appreciative. 

“You're full of shit,” Rue can’t help but say it out loud. But it doesn’t hurt his feelings. He looks in her eyes again and nearly laughs. 

Nothing seems to hurt his feelings. No one but Maddy. She shouldn’t be antagonistic towards him, not now that she’s determined to bring him down from behind enemy lines. She can’t do that if he’s going to be going after her, should she end things between them on a sour note. Fuck, she really didn’t think this through, had she. There’s no way he’d keep their fratinzing to himself; not when he’s just breaking up with someone and probably far too amused by the drama that surrounds that news. 

He plans to rope her in, and see if her friends will actually alienate her as he thinks they all will eventually. 

Nate kisses her again, there against the wall. He trails his lips down her jaw and the side of her neck and back up again. “Did you miss me?” He stands around her, feeling her sigh as her hands tug him closer. He barely touches her lips with his own, touch fluttering against her full bottom lip. He’ll never admit it, but her mouth is definitely her best feature. Her long legs are second. 

“No,” Rue whispers her reply, pulling back to give him a cruel glare. She shoves him back just as Principal Hayes clears his throat behind them. 

_ “Fuck” _Rue glares at Nate just as Principal Hayes stares at them both with sheer disappointment. It’s too early for this. He can’t even fathom how their interactions have come about but he doesn’t care. 

“Mr. Jacobs, Miss Bennett,” he folds his hands, looking between them. “You’re both aware of the very clear conduct guidelines in the school handbook, correct? This very inappropriate behavior, added to the very true fact that you’re late to first period is means for three days in-school suspension.” 

Rue can’t look her principal in the eye, while Nate stands at full height, and rolls his eyes. “We were on our way to class. We were....” She looks to Nate, who smirks as she tries to find the right words. Her cheeks are still tinged pink, and they grow redder seeing that his lips are kiss swollen and are the shade of red similar to that of rubies. “...sidetracked.” 

“I’m sure, but you’ll be finding Ms. Tannery after school today and making up for the time missed this morning.” He leaves no room for argument. Though Nate tries. 

They just missed morning announcements—even those played over the loud P.A.system. They’d ignored it of course. 

“I have practice.” 

“I’m sure you do. But academia comes first, as you’re well aware.” He raises his chin higher, as if to appear taller than the students. Nate is gargantuan in comparison.

“Though, I’m sure we could ask your father how he feels about the consequences of you being late to _first_ period because you chose to behave inappropriately in my schools hallways.” 

“Nate…” Rue looks down, seeing his hands balled into fists. She smiles tightly at their Principal, who clearly missed the way Nate’s spine grew stiff as a board at the mention of his father. She should keep her mouth shut, but standing there awkwardly waiting for the floorboards to split and swallow her does nothing for her hammering heart rate and anxieties. And if Nate gets them in deeper shit, she’ll definitely have to explain to her mother. And those conversations never go well between them. 

“Get to class,” Principal Hayes barks. “Don’t let me catch you in like this again. Or I’ll be forced to do more than write up an infraction…and _ you’ll _miss more than practice warmups, Mr. Jacobs.”

Rue drags Nate towards the stairs, up the first few steps. “C'mon, before you open your big ass mouth and get us into more trouble.” 

“Rue, a word?” Their Principal calls after them. But Nate pulls her around to the final steps. 

“We’re late remember!?” He calls down to the older man. 

She doesn’t dare look back, but her eyes go wide as she stares at the star quarterback. “Are you _ trying _to get expelled?!” 

Nate rolls his eyes, both sets of deep brown looking to each other. She’s too tired to be exasperated though, and simply continues walking. “Like you’re rushing back down there to see what he wants. _ You’re _full of shit too.” 

“You didn’t answer the question,” she tosses back just as much attitude, folding her arms across her chest. His eyes follow the action and then trail her body. Her hoodie is opened, showing more of her striped cropped top, and black raw-hem shorts. Her cushion socks stick out the top of her chucks. She looks ready to brave the skate park. 

“It was a stupid question.” He takes her hand and leads her down the corridor, towards their classroom. They have maybe 10 more minutes before the shorter morning period is over and they’d be going their separate ways. It’s Monday, they didn’t have any homework to work on anyways, but neither is ever in a rush, “They weren’t gonna expel me. It was Tyler who attacked—“ 

“I’m not an idiot,” she cuts him off. They stand there, not even three feet from the classroom door, staring at it from across the hall. The tension doubles, as he stares at her and she slowly looks his way. “No one here is gonna tell you, but no one believes that. But me...I don’t give a fuck. I’ve seen you—I can see _ you _. Tyler didn’t do that to Maddy.” 

It’s truly alarming how quickly the switch can flip. But for some reason, he’s holding back with her. She’s always seen him as who he is from the beginning, and she became painfully aware of how much he holds back. It’s not _ points _ for him, but it’s no stretch to imagine the damage he can do. And at least with her, he’s enjoyed the game. 

“Did rehab turn you into some kind of shrink?” He asks, bitterly. They both sit on the floor. “What the fuck do you know anyway?” 

Rue shrugs, despite the tension she’s not afraid of him. That‘s probably a sad reflection of who she’s allowing herself to become—how easily she’s let the perceptions between them shift. Or is she simply prey about to be caught unawares? She can’t find it in herself to care. “You have some shit to work out.” _ Ain’t that the truth… _he looks at her, brow quirked. To her surprise, he reaches out and draws her closer. She looks up, chin resting on his shoulder. “I can’t help you.” 

“I don’t want your help.” 

“You know,” She quirks a soft smile, an upturn of the corners of her mouth—and he closes his eyes. Reaching to pet his hair, she hesitates, but decides to just do it. “You’re easier to deal with when you just shut up.” 

Nate looks at her again—rolling his eyes—but he says nothing else. He stares at her, gears turning in his head. They pretty much spent their weekend together—he rather enjoyed it—mostly him just occupying her time. He’d spent the time distracting her with his body. And it was a relief, really, rediscovering the way sex can wash away every other thought. He’s been having trouble with that; he’ll never admit it’s more than _ a lot on his mind. _He’s had a predisposition towards Jules—she’s gone now. And he’s replaced her just as easily as he could always do. 

He feels like Rue is holding back. And while he could probably gather why if he wants, he’s still irritated that so much of his plan—and the amusement therein—relies so heavily on his emotional investment. And despite what she’s let on; he knows she’s an emotional being. All girls are. Emotional, bratty, needy, and stubborn. It’s the same song and dance. But with so much just waiting to bubble up from under the surface—things can reach a boiling point with Rue or move at a snail's pace. He thinks they’re past the latter, but not quite at the former. 

“There’s a party Saturday night, we’re going,” he says. 

“I don’t _ party _anymore.” She’s met too much drama and overall distress at highschool parties. She has more important things to do.... or should do. 

“But you’re so good at it,” he comments. And it hurts. He can tell by the way she doesn’t really react at all. Rue just watches him, nails digging into her palm. 

He doesn’t apologize. She hadn't expected him to. 

“No,” she reiterates. “I’m not into it.” 

“Rue...you don’t have a life,” Nate stands, knowing the first period dismissal bell is set to ring. He pulls her to her feet with one solid hand, ignoring the awkward steps she takes away from him. She doesn’t want to be near him. But what’s new? “We’re going to the party. Wear something hot. I’ll pick you up at 10:30-ish.” 

She won’t be ready. She’s not going. They’ll find out who’s more stubborn. 

But he takes her hand, in his strong grip. He’s possessive and overly tight with his hold. When the bell rings and students appear in a wild stream of premature exhaustion, she finally sinks into his side—into the shadows where she feels safe. Though, he can’t stand around long and skip his entire morning with her. 

Their schoolmates see her, _ them _, and she wants to run. She hadn’t been prepared for this. And she feels off kilter, the telltale sign that she’s freaking out building in her lungs. Nate feels her posture stiffen as he throws his arm around her shoulders. But he can’t afford to stand there and figure her out. He does have to pretend to be interested in his studies, or no football. 

He plants a rough kiss to her temple, still ignoring her jagged breathing, and pulls away from her. “I’ll see you later.” 

He’s not even fully turned away before she throws herself into the nearest bathroom. Rue disregards everyone in the bathroom, groping at the faucet to turn on the water. She splashes her face, holding her breath; releasing and inhaling—repeating the same process—until she feels like her lungs are lacking room.

She hadn’t been ready, she’d been unprepared. 

With a loud thud, she drops her backpack and leans on the edge of the sink. _ What the fuck are you doing Rue? _

“Are you good?” She hears. 

_ No. _

  
  


.

.

.

“Have you literally lost your entire fuckin’ mind?” Lexi halts dangerously close to yelling at Rue in a court yard full of students. “You and Nate? _ Maddy’s _ Nate?” 

Rue looks up at her, seeing her glow in a halo of appropriate sunlight behind her. She swallows thickly as she pulls at her sleeves. She just needs something to do—killing some time as she tries to come up with a response that makes sense—as Lexi stares down at her with the usual brand guilt. “I—uh..” 

“She’s gonna go _ nuclear, _Rue,” Lexi adds, arms folded as she still looks down on her friend. “Major girl code violation.”

“We’re not friends,” Rue looks back down at the book she’s been trying to read for weeks. She’s been majorly unsuccessful in even making it halfway. “Maddy’s not my friend—we don’t even like each other. It’s more like a...tolerance.” She’s lying of course, because she and Maddy have never really had an issue. The girl can be wild, and she has a sharp tongue, but Rue has mostly been indifferent. 

“You know, you can't _ just…say _ that,” Lexi huffs in earnest frustration. 

Rue sighs, flattens the back of her hand on her forehead, before scratching her head, “I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” 

“I dunno!” Lexi shrugs, “Tell me everyone is having some kind of shared delusion or something. Because the Rue I saw Saturday night would never in a million years, get involved with Psycho Nate Jacobs…” 

She can defend him, but it would be disingenuous. She can defend herself but that will offer nothing. She had ranted to Lexi; roped her into her anger when Tyler had _ confessed. _ She can’t lie. So instead Rue does what she’s good at and pushes her friend away, “I don’t know why you think I have to tell you anything… But I _ don’t _. It’s none of your business.” 

Rue tells herself that Lexi is a good, innocent teen who doesn’t need to know the horrors that surround Cal Jacobs—the reason she’s been roped into her own crazy plots. She needs to remember that this is of her own doing. She shouldn’t be mad that Lexi is concerned. Though, she is annoyed anyway. When she’d tried to explain her thoughts earlier, Lexi hadn’t believed her—not fully anyway. 

“Please, don’t look so wounded,” Rue continues; looking to her book again. “It’s nothing I haven’t already told you.” Lexi does an impeccable job, keeping her expression flat. But her eyes dull in hurt. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but don’t run to me when you inevitability fuck it up.” Rue’s resolve falters and so truth sticks. She hadn’t meant to say something so rude, but she’s angry. And hurt. She doesn’t understand how Rue can be callous, with her soft and detached tone. “I don’t know what he said to you but he doesn’t care—“ 

“Oh God Lexi,” Rue sighs, “I’m not running off to marry him.” 

“Did you hook up with him?” Lexi asks, it’s ultimately the same thing. Her eyes are wide with anticipation, though he hope dwindles when Rue doesn’t immediately deny it. “After all your bullshit brainstorming about him? 

“What do you think?” Rue’s tone is sardonic, and her face reads as just as sarcastic. “Don’t tell me he’s going to hurt me.” 

“I won’t.” She scoffs, shaking her head. Rue has always been someone that moves on whims, but this is extreme. “But you and I know he will.” Lexi clears her throat. “He and Maddy just broke up. You know how they get. He’ll leave you—“ 

“You’re taking this way more seriously than you should,” Rue chuckles. “I’m not gonna fall in love with him. And he’s not gonna fall for me.” 

“Yeah let’s hope, or you’ll never get away,” Lexi stares at her seriously and Rue rolls her eyes. Her indifference sets Lexi off. “Rue, he almost killed Maddy! You were the one convinced he was running around acting like a supervillain.” 

“Oh my _ god _!” Rue drones. She slams her book down. “Can you stop with the fuckin’ doom and gloom, Jesus!” 

“Why are you defending him!?” 

“Lexi i'm not! I’m just saying it’s not that serious!” Rue holds her hands up, she doesn’t have the will to argue. “I don’t have anything to defend either.” 

“Yeah sure. That’s great,” Lexi laughs, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you. And you just don’t give a shit about Jules anymore?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You aren’t saying anything!” Lexi is yelling at her in hushed tones, neither girl wanting for attention in the courtyard. “She’s not here and you’re not even concerned!” 

“She’s skipping,” Rue says, and it’s not really a lie but it’s definitely not the entire truth. “What do you want me to do?” 

Lexi is quiet, knowing that Jules isn’t one for fretting or being held down by societal norms; but she’s always seemed to enjoy school. She burns bright, and is well liked—even if people still whisper about the time she slit her own arm. It’s strange that she’s missing and Rue is tied up with Nate. 

“No one’s heard from her since the formal.” 

“That’s not my fault,” Rue shrugs, “She’s not texting me back.” 

“So, you two had a fight?” Lexi’s brows drop inward, the question written on her face. “What happened? Is it Nate?” 

“God, no,” Rue groans, tossing her head back in exasperation. She can’t even begin to explain how her winter formal had completely collapsed around her. The night had gone well considering how many times she could have died. It definitely wasn’t for lack of trying. “It’s Monday. She’s supposed to be _ here.” _

“You don’t think—“ 

“No, Nate has nothing to do with it,” Rue cuts her off. 

“I was going to say...maybe she went to visit home again or something.” Lexi quirks one of her thick brows. “But I get it… Nate’s in the clear this time. I still think you need to be careful with him…like, not with him at all.” 

“We’re _ not _toge—“ 

“Are you fucking _ kidding me!?” _She hears Maddy before she sees her. But the double doors from the cafeteria push open and groan from the effort used to swing them open. Maddy is stomping towards her, Cassie in tow. 

“Hey,” Rue begins, though she wants to retreat. The eyes staring at them are boring into her spine, severing all the confidence she’s had thus far. 

“You’re screwing around with Nate?” Maddy asks, her nostrils are flared with anger, eyes blazing with rage. Her full lips perse as she swallows. Rue doesn’t answer fast enough. “You backstabbing _ cunt _ ! What the fuck? It’s not enough that like everyone else, you didn’t want us to work out— _ now _ you’re a fucking him? How do I taste, bitch? Cause I just had him, he probably still smells like me!” 

Rue’s chin drops marginally as Maddy tries to attack her and Cassie and Lexi have to forcefully pull the diminutive teen back. Rue is unimpressed, but also embarrassed. 

“Nothing to say?!” Maddy asks, her voice raised. “I will fuckin’ fight you… You rancid druggie bitch! Ooo, if I get my hands on you!” 

“You’ll what? Pull my hair?” Rue rolls eyes eyes, spurred on by the insult. She gets to her feet and starts to collect her things. “And rancid druggie bitch? That’s actually kind of original—different from everything else I’ve actually heard from you. You’re the least intimidating person I’ve ever encountered. Just another high school bitch who thinks the world owes you something—grew up having everyone tell you that you’re perfect because you fit into a cheer uniform. But I dont owe you a fuckin’ thing.” She steps closer, “And Nate tastes like mint.” And a little bit of danger. 

“He’s never going to be over me,” Maddy blurts. “He’s mine. He always will be.” 

“No,” Rue turns, walking backward then, “He probably won’t, but I never said I wanted that.” She looks at the three girls, and the courtyard full of students.. “All of you can save your breath. Move the fuck on, Perez.” 

She runs into something solid, a body. Arms wrap around her waist; a possessive hand grips her hips. And she knows who it is immediately. He must have heard—Maddy’s scream must be a beacon. The cheerleader looks like she could split them both in half with her bare hands. 

“What are you doing out here?” Jacobs asks Rue, his lips pressed close to her ear. His grip tightens. His anger with her is rolling off him in waves and she can’t understand why he’s so angry. But then it hits her like a Mack truck: he’s not over Maddy. Not by a long shot—she’s it for him, still. And here Rue is, arguing with her in front of everyone. It doesn’t matter if he’s shoved his tongue down her throat just that morning, in a hallway of students. They were removed from Maddy. 

But they are broken up. And he’s always done his best to get back at her when they’d fight. But they’re not fighting. She’d broken up with him for good. That is harder to deal with, knowing it’s true. 

His grip on Rue slackens and she breathes easy. Lexi is watching every movement—bated breathing and concern all over her face. 

“Let’s just go,” Rue looks up at him, still having to crane her neck despite her own height. He lifts his hand to her shoulders, drawing her around, and her backpack sways on her one side. Maddy watches, shocked. But her dignity won’t allow her to call after him. She’s compromised herself enough. But she can still feel his hand on her neck, all on her skin. His lips on her lips. She loves him. She’ll always love him.

She can destroy him. She has that tape—of his dad and Jules. She can destroy his entire weird family. 

Her eye starts to twitch as his hand drops from her shoulder to Rue’s ass, the pocket of her shorts. His pinky sticks out, settled as if it’s supposed to be there. Something in her breaks. They’re not good for each other—so he’s not good for anyone, then. His name freezes in her throat. 

She wants to scream. So she does. Her fists seize at her sides, Cassie and Lexi jump. But Rue and Nate don’t even falter. “I’m gonna fuckin’ KILL her!” 

Rue looks up at Nate, a million words swimming around in his head. He didn't have to deal with anyone being crazy today. That much she’s certain of. She wants to punch him in the face for doing this to her. They didn’t have to bring this to school. He didn’t have to start this in these hallways. But why does she have the sinking feeling that he’s done this to her on purpose. “She’s a real gem.” 

“Don’t talk about her,” Nate warns. 

“She doesn’t love you,” Rue blurts. And it’s cruel, idiotic—also a lie. But it gets to him. And she can see it. Here in this school, he can’t do anything about his rage. 

He pulls her by the hair, guiding her mouth it his in a fierce, angry kiss. She moans in surprise, her lips parting the way he wants. When he’s ravaged her, leaving her lips sore red, bottom lip split from his teeth; he smiles at her. “Neither do you.” 

“I don’t want to own you,” Rue says next. And she doesn’t have an explanation. “I don’t think I would ever want to. Not the way she wants to.” 

He quirks a brow, pulling back as he regards her. “I didn’t think you did the whole _ I’m better than her _ thing.” 

“I don’t,” Rue says, “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just saying. I don’t want to change you, or make you different. I don’t want gifts or your money; or your name…” 

She’d never think she can change him. And that’s why she’s planning on taking him down. People like him don’t change. But he makes her heart race and slow down all the same time. She has no choice but to make her mind go blank when she’s with him—lest she start thinking of all the reasons she shouldn’t be around him at all. She can only tell herself he’s trouble so many times. She knows. She can feel the danger, the fear—it’s embedded in her bones. 

“You don’t want _ me _,” Nate says. And there’s a vulnerability there, that strikes her. His face screws up in anger again; he hadn’t meant to let his emotion show. His hands ball into fists. She takes his hands, out of fear or sympathy, she doesn’t know. On the edge of both, they feel the same. Rue surges forward, onto her toes so they’re closer to the same height. Her hands gripping together behind his head, she kisses him. This kiss is soft, and she thinks of Jules. 

  
  


She misses Jules. 

Nate holds her face in his hands, using his thumb to press her chin down and open her mouth. Rue’s eyes shoot open, and his are closed. He needs this kiss, she realizes, for him to release some displaced emotions. This separates them from the moment somehow—they’re alone in his motel room, untouchable to the realities of their separate plots. It’s just a kiss between two teenagers. 

Rue indulges too, and it’s dangerous. But she needs the endorphins doesn’t she? After being berated and insulted? It’s bullshit. But she indulges anyway. 

Nate peppers her lips with soft kisses, and can feel his hands drop away. Every bone in his body wants to step away from her. But he presses his forehead to hers instead. They just breathe. For a long time, they just stand there in silence. There’s another shift. In the silence, they get along best. 

Rue can’t explain why she suddenly feels for him. But she understands his turmoil...in a way. But it excuses nothing. He’s not trying to understand her, that much she knows. He probably doesn’t know anything worth knowing. Nothing past her history with pills and coke, and her dad's death. And even that, she’s aware that he probably doesn’t care. He only cares about himself. But she can’t pull away from him then either. 

There’s no way she’ll have the strength to do it when she really needs to, will there? 

The bell rings, and he kisses her again. 

* * *

  
  


Rue had not banked on how quickly she’d be ostracized. And honestly, she didn’t think it was possible to be seen as anything worse than what she’s been—a druggy weirdo—but in _ high school _ ...there’s nothing worse than being a _ whore. _And Maddy has damn near made it impossible for her to be known as anything more than the girl who stole Nate from her. 

It had gotten really bad, and Nate’s solution was to punch some kid in the face over it—earning himself a suspension last week. He missed a game. And while she thought he’d slam her into a locker next, he took her to school all week, kissed her and left.

Rue is suspicious of him. Everything he does, she tears apart, examining every facet of him under a microscope. Lexi, her researchers in crime stalks his social media accounts. His Instagram is just a combination of body, topless, narcissist shots and to her surprise, there’s a picture of her, sleeping on him in the bed of his truck. There’s no caption. She and Lexi stared at the post for maybe hours—failing to decipher what they should think about it. All his posts with Maddy are gone. And that very day, Maddy deletes all the pictures she has of him as well. 

Well, that was really the worst thing to happen. As the teens involved are suddenly fielding more questions than before. 

Nate’s simply held her hand tighter, been around more. They had their first big blow out over him inviting himself to her house. Subsequently, there’s a hole in her bedroom wall—a new picture frame covering it—from where he slams his hand through the plaster...near her head. 

_ “You don’t scare me,” Rue says, eyes searching his for the broken piece of him that makes him think this is okay, the gap waiting to be filled with something; anything, maybe even just a little bit of common fuckin sense. Thank God her mother and sister went out for ice cream. _

_ [Gia got an A on a test, despite Rue whose(according to Leslie) best efforts to remain the center of the universe have failed.] _

_ He takes her by the throat then, eyes full of rage and turmoil, maybe even regret, and smashes his lips to hers. She bites his lip, hard, and uses the strength she can muster to push him back. He doesn’t even stumble. _

_ “What the _ ** _fuck_ ** _ !” Nate wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. _

_ “I hate y–when you do that.” She says, bottom lip quivering with not wanting to cry in frustration. She’s not supposed to do this, be concerned. And her fear is that whatever darkness he has in him, will be his undoing. And she can’t stop the feeling that he doesn’t even know that this isn’t normal. _

_ “Say it,” Nate replies. “Say you hate me.” He stalks towards her again until he has her caged against the wall again. His deep brown eyes glitter with mischief. _

_ “I…” she can’t say it. Why can’t she say it? She does hate him. She means it when she thinks it, why can’t she say it. They’re still so vindictive with one another, but now she gets why Maddy has been so attached with him. Even when he’s a whirlwind and of teens angst and pain, he radiates power and strength. And Rue has been lacking there for quite some time. Her addiction has made her weak. And it caused her attachment to Jules, and now Nate. And it boggles her mind that she finds herself reaching out to him, tangling her hands in the fabric of his shirt, and the other hand settles at his waist. _

Lexi snatches Rue out of the way of distracted kids as they stand there in the way at the football field. “Are you okay? Why are you so out of it?” 

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Rue says to Lexi, the pair ascending the bleachers. It’s the middle of the varsity football game. The season is dwindling and though they’ve been winning most of their games, most of the attention has been on Nate. He’s had a rocky season, missed a game much to the teams chagrin. And everyone has noticed that Cal has been more intense than usual. 

Nate has been mostly despondent since their argument. She gave it up to him that night, quietly, while her mother and sister slept. She hadn’t thought it possible to sneak someone as large as him into her house at night, but she managed it. 

_ Nate quirks a brow at her, “Why don’t you have a lock on your door?” _

_ “I came home Monday after the formal and it was gone.” She rises up onto her elbows, legs open to him as he still watches her. “She likes to just burst in.” _

_ “That’ll be fun,” he smirks. He gathers the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the floor. “She’ll kill you if she catches me in here.” He approaches her, lounging beside her as she stares at him. The way he speaks is very matter-of-fact, so much so that it actually irks her a bit. He’s never unsure, or uncertain. _

_ He’ll never tell her he has no idea how to take her. He doesn’t trust her at all. And a big part of him enjoys leaving her on unsteady feet because of it. At least she’s not ahead at all if she’s just as confused. _

_ The least enjoyable part of this is falling into more uncertainty when it comes to her. He’d had a plan. And while he’ll _ ** _never _ ** _ love her, he’s actually quite taken with her. He can't explain why. It makes no sense. She’s nothing of the conventional sort. She doesn’t like nice things and doesn’t (easily) bend to his every whim. She frustrates him to no end with her unyielding sadness and tragedy. But at least she’s more miserable than he is. _

_ “You know what I don’t get?” She begins, starting a thought aloud, turning to face him more comfortably. He settles beside her, ignoring the tightness in his groin and the subsequent tent in his jeans. She doesn’t even seem to register that the mood has so abruptly changed just by her ignoring him. _

_ “What?” He nuzzles her neck, lips suckling the skin between her shoulder and long dainty neck. His large hand crosses her shy chest, and he thinks of how easily he could crush her. Despite her height, she’s a little thing. It hasn’t taken him long to realize just how much bigger than her he is. He could crush her, and not leave much of a mess really. But he doesn’t. And that’s growth right? _

_ “If I’m such a fuckin burden, why keep me around?” She asks, and he pulls back to look at her. _

_ “ _ ** _Me_ ** _ ?” He wonders, lost. _

_ “No,” she rolls her eyes, “My mom.” _

_ “Oh,” he huffs, slowly running his hand down her chest and stomach. He doesn’t stop until she grips his hand at the top of her shorts. She doesn’t the damn near unthinkable and laces their fingers together. He doesn’t move his hand. “Everyone would find out right? And then they’d know it’s not absolutely perfect.” _

_ Rue laughs, “My family has never been perfect. _ ** _I’ve _ ** _ always been a mess.” _

_ “Isn’t everyone?” He thinks aloud, without meaning to. He grits his teeth. He hadn’t meant to say that. And judging by the widening of her eyes, she did not expect him to reply that way. _

_ Rue snorts, not at his discomfort but at the realization that he looks so much younger when he lets his guard down. He looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. That comes later though. _

_ “Tell me your secrets, Jacobs.” _

_ “You tell me yours first,” he returns, smirking at her when her eyes roll. He grips her hip and turns her into her side. _

_ “Absolutely fuckin’ not,” she replies before throwing herself at him. She straddles his hips; reaching up to pull her shirt over her head, grinding down on him at the same time. His chuckling turns to a stilted huff just as he grips her hips. _

Rue can cheer him up with sex. But that lasts for a few moments. He’s started sneaking her into his house at night. There’s something more erotic about having to be quiet when they fuck. There’s a level of fear she’s not used to, knowing Cal would definitely burst through the door. Would he be livid...or want to watch? She shivers thinking about it. Rue’s buries her face in the pillows in those moments, grips the sheets and Nate reaches for stability where he can. 

It’s been a month and a half since the winter formal. ACTs are coming up, she should be focused on that. But she can’t. 

Jules still hasn’t come home. Her dad, David, has been over to the house, drunk, banging on the front door looking for her to explain why his daughter hasn’t come home—where is she? She’s been asked. His antics have severed the budding friendship he’d had with her mother Leslie. 

There’s an official case looking into Jules disappearance now. And Rue is waiting for the day the cops come looking for more answers from her. She would really like to have some, as she considered this her fault. Principal Hayes has had her down in the office, answering their questions on more than one occasion. She still doesn’t have any answers for them. Jules hasn’t reached out. And it makes her nervous. She’s left voicemails too—as if it's the 90s or something.

She feels sick as she thinks about it. But as striking as her fear is, she’s certain Nate doesn’t know where she is either. She hadn’t been certain for a few days, and he’d felt the strain between them and pushed her away. Rue felt the guilt and went crawling back. 

Wind whips her face, and Lexi reaches out to ask her if she’s okay. Their eyes meet and it’s as if Rue is slapped haphazardly back into her body. 

Lexi still isn’t used to the idea of Rue being with Nate, but Cassie and Kat aren’t really talking to her much anymore either. Kat is mostly hanging out with Ethan and branching out, so no one really takes it personally. And she and Maddy haven’t really squashed their beef. But Cassie has been strictly on team Maddy. Lexi can’t fault her for that. 

Rue doesn’t know about it. All she knows is that Cassie and Maddy hate her. 

Maddy corners her every time she spots her. At the last party she ventured to, Maddy doused her in jungle juice. 

“Are you okay?” Lexi asks, her own arms folded around herself to hold out the cold. 

“Yeah, I should have worn long sleeves, but I’m good,” Rue hunches. 

She spots Nate on the bench, where he’s talking to his team intensely. He must feel her eyes on him, because he looks back at her, where she’s sitting with Lexi, far from his father. 

She doesn’t cheer or even smile; simply nods and he does the same. His father sees the exchange. With a quirked brow, and otherwise gruff expression, Cal recognizes her from the fair not too far back. Immediately his interest and dread are piqued. He knew her. And he’s seen her with Jules. 

Jules, who no one’s seen in weeks. No one but him. 

She wants to avoid thinking about what that means for her Jules. But she can’t. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach won’t let the dread end. Jules is officially a missing person. 

She’s a suspect, and it’s a miracle she’s allowed at school. Rue’s hung missing flyers with Lexi and Kat, both of them solemn while Rue flew down the streets hanging them on every post. 

Nate is unsympathetic—unsurprisingly. And no one can say that they knew much about Jules. She stuck out like a sore thumb but that doesn’t mean anyone actually got to know her. But what everyone does know is that she and Rue stuck together—had been tethered tightly in the few months they’d grown together. 

But now she’s with Nate. And no one quite knows why. But Rue is resigned to the looks, the suspicion. She hasn’t quite wrapped her mind around the fact that Jules coming home is likely losing probability and the urge to bury herself in her room, and not move...it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore it. But like she knew before...she can just feel it, she knows Cal had something to do with it. Jules just went home for the night. This time, she didn't come back? It doesn't make sense.

Rue hunches over, her feet on the edge of the row below, elbows atop her knees. “I can’t wait for this to be over.” 

“Let’s just leave…” Lexi shrugs when Rue looks at her. 

She laughs, “I’d never hear the end of it.” Looking up again, Cal is staring a hole into her. 

“Have you ever talked to him?” Lexi scoots closer, and the two girls huddle as they start to grow colder and colder in the evening. 

“Who?” Rue asks, glancing at her. She knows though, and dares herself not to look. 

“Mr. Jacobs?” Lexi asks, “he’s been staring at you since Nate looked up.” It’s still weird to her though. And she’s noticed that their eyes will meet and no one else can see it. It’s jarring. 

“I’ve seen him...around,” Rue makes it a point not to look at him again. Now that he's before her, her courage to make sure he's found out? Harder to reconcile. 

“He’s coming over,” Lexi grips her arm tightly, pulling slightly to force her gaze to turn. 

_ “Fuck,” _Rue grits her teeth. 

“The famous Rue,” Cal says, head tilting to the side. “Are you the _ new _ one distracting my son?” 

Rue squints up at him under the harsh game lighting, “Guilty.” 

He offers a hand, “Cal Jacobs…” he introduces himself to both, shaking their hands. 

“We know who you are, Mr. Jacobs,” Lexi comments, looking between the two of them. Rue is tense, as if she’s meeting a monster from her nightmares. Lexi swallows thickly. 

He makes a face, a small smirk as he looks down at his feet. “I came over to say I’m sorry about your friend. Nate says you were close.” 

“Were…” Rue muses, growing agitated by the assumption. “Her name is Jules.” 

“It’s been two months, Rue,” he says, brows knitted. “The chances—“ 

“Jules is going to come back,” Rue grits her teeth. She stares at him firmly, suddenly spurred on by rage. “People like Jules don’t disappear, never to be heard from again. People look for them.” 

“I see that I’ve upset you,” Cal clears his throat. And he looks unsure of himself. But she knows it’s an act. She doesn’t take her eyes from him. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sure she’ll show up.” 

Rue doesn’t say anything else. And Lexi’s doing her best to not look at the man standing before them. She’s confused mostly by his concern but the way he’s looking at Rue—as if he’s made a mistake. It’s not the kind of vibe she’d ever associate with a man as powerful—in this town for sure—as he is. He gives one final tilt of the head, before he passes them up higher on the bleachers. 

Rue finds Nate on the field again. He’s watching, and she knows he’s seen the entire interaction and he doesn’t look happy. Even from where she sits, she can tell. 

“What the hell was that?” Lexi asks, brows knitted together. 

“I dunno,” Rue answers honestly. She _ doesn’t _know why Cal came over, but she does know it was more than sparing some condolences and introducing himself. He’s probably relieved by the idea that she’s dead. And that makes her want to burst into tears. 

She can’t focus for the rest of the game. But Nate actually plays well—though he looked pissed. Even though the adoration from the team's supporters is showering down on him. 

He usually soaks it up, smiling wide, exchanging game talk with the team and reveling in the praise. Tonight his focus doesn’t stray until the game is won. 

For her part, Rue huddles with Lexi and simply watches. But she can feel Cal looking at them every once in a while. He makes her skin crawl and by the time the game comes to an end, she’s shaking with rage. She knows, she just does. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lexi’s concern is palpable. 

“Yeah,” Rue nodded, not going to let it show just how much Nate’s dad truly bothers her. But Lexi isn’t sure and her nerves are not at all easy to ignore. 

The rest of the game goes off without a hitch, though Cal sits up behind them, and Rue can feel him watching. Her eyes never leave the field; though she’s not really retaining any of it—state blank and her hands stuffed between her thighs to keep warm—Nate looked up at her throughout, an unreadable expression but she doesn’t even notice. 

Once the game is over, and they scraped by on one field goal, the bleachers start to clear. She can still hear the stupid sounding voices of the cheerleaders—their incessant screaming will forever be imbedded, along with a hole in her forehead from where Maddy has stared at her all night. 

Lexi drags her along by the hand, fingers entwined while she pulls her through the hordes. They stop at the fence caging the players in the field. And to her surprise and Lexi’s disgust, Nate grabs Rue by the chin to pull her lips to his. The kiss is softer than she’s used to, but still as demanding as he kisses her for everyone to see. When he pulls away, she’s left speechless really, her eyes wide and her brows pulled in. He flattens his thumb to the creese, rubbing the tension away. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says then, pressing his fist to her jaw in a soft punch. The motion makes Lexi watch skeptically, uncomfortable with it because she knows he’s put his hands on Maddy and without playfulness. Rue just rolls her eyes. 

“Just go change so we can leave,” Rue says, her teeth chattering. She’s freezing. She’s in high waisted cut offs and a Clash t-shirt. Her socks reaches low on her calves and her chucks have seen better days. 

With a roll of the eyes, he takes she folded hoodie off his shoulders and drapes it across her body. 

“Told you to wear a sweater,” he sounds unamused at best, but she doesn’t let it bother her.

“Don't give me this then,” she snaps, ready to take it off but he grabs her by the arms, rubbing to heat her quicker. 

“You have a real gratitude problem,” he tells her all the time, but unlike the other instances, there’s a smile sitting on his lips—and she’s having trouble not taking note of it. 

Lexi watches them part and with much skepticism, stands back as Rue puts on the much too large hoodie. Rue can see her judgement. And she appreciates that she doesn't have to hear it….for the next few seconds before they’re really clear of him. The size of the hoodie is reminder enough--he could have killed any one of those people he’s been accused of harming. 

They walk arm in arm. Rue has found herself clinging to Lexi recently. Outside of Nate, she’s really the only friend speaking to her—saying more than three words—Fez has all but disappeared from her life. He doesn’t want to be a challenge to her sobriety. She’d like to be angry at him for that. But he’s right. She’d be high as hell if he wasn’t holding out. And honestly she just hasn’t caught a break to find another dealer. She’s been clean anyway, the urge isn’t constant anymore, but that's because she's been consumed. She’s found herself another addiction; mean, uncouth even… Nate Jacobs. It’s a scary realization. 

“Is it too late to tell you that I’m not going to that party?” Lexi makes a face, scrunching her nose and brows in a wince. 

“You don’t listen to me anyway,” Rue sighs. 

“Who does, really?” She jokes, and Rue actually laughs, softly. 

The parking lot has thinned considerably, with spectators not waiting on players, having left as quickly as possible. 

They settle into the wagon of the truck, legs stretched across the tailgate. Rue frowns to herself. “I hate his parents.” She says it randomly, Lexi is lost for a few seconds. 

“You have that in common, I assume.” 

Rue snorts, but her shoulders sag, “Not funny.” 

“I didn’t laugh...you did.” Lexi shrugs, “That was creepy.”

“I’ve never spoken to that man before a day in my life,” Rue says, and a chill runs up her spine. With a rigorous kind of tenacity, the memory of him at the fair a few months back has really come back with a vengeance. The sight of him—cooly menacing—watching Jules, fear and anger in his eyes will never stop haunting her. And she wonders, did she know something, deep in her bones, did she know? yes. 

“Are you okay?...Rue, you’re shaking?” 

“Huh? What?” 

“You just kinda, left me there for a moment,” Lexi stares at her, brows knitting in a way that is so obviously concerned that Rue nearly recoils. 

“Sorry,” Rue snorts out, a sad sort of smirk flickering her lips. She’s uncomfortable. “Thanks for coming with me tonight-I know you didn’t want to.” 

“Of course not, but I couldn’t leave you unsupervised,” Lexi smiles, trying to keep the mood light. But something akin to a wince passes through her friend, and she realizes that was probably not the thing to say, the wrong joke to make. “I didn’t mean it like—”

Rue waves off the apology. She shouldn't be so sensitive, and she doesn’t know when it really happened. She’s not used to being on her backfoot like this—wondering if everyone is judging her—and blaming Nate for it….she can’t even do that. Because, and she can't believe it herself, she feels the most comfort when he’s around. He’s an anchor, someone who stands firmly in his own self that it makes her sure. It's probably not a good thing he’s so unflinching, considering many people hate him—those who seem to know him— but he doesn’t give a shit and that’s… comforting. She’s yet to accept it. 

And moments later, there he is; hair washed, in gray henley and dark wash jeans, his chucks have seen the best and worst of days. He dumps his bag in the trunk and rounds the back to stand in front of Rue( who’s scooched to the end of the pickup). His hands settle on her legs, “Your friend here need a ride?”

Lexi rolls her eyes, “If it wouldn’t kill you,” she cuts in.

“You know? It just might.” 

Rue shoves his shoulder, “Don’t be a dick.” 

“That’s what you love about me,” And for a moment, Lexi can't stop herself from rolling her eyes. He steals a kiss from his girlfriend(?) and moves back to take her out the boot and he ignores Lexi entirely. “Well come on then, i’m not a fucking uber, i’ll leave you both.” 

“Real charmer,” Lexi mutters, and Rue snorts under her breath as she opens the passenger door and pushes the chair forward for her friend. Her face is hot with embarrassment. If it’s from the rough kiss Nate gives her--for Lexi to see and gag at—or the fact that her heart races over it, she's not sure. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	3. halt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three! 
> 
> Thank you for commenting and leaving kudos! I love y'all.

_The honeymoon stage, as they call it doesn’t last very long with Nate. _

_He’s a dick, and he knows it. He’s just kind enough; charming, funny, just barely enough that it doesn't matter that you want to smash his face into a wall. Or that he is a little too unbothered by my physical and mental state, ever at all. We argue over stupid things. Like me, ignoring his texts. Him, insisting that I wear his stupid jacket. _

_It’s all bullshit now. And I hate him just as much as I love him. I can’t explain why I do. But I understand Maddy—differently than I did—and her need to be around him. I want to breathe with him, touch his tiny selective heart. Even if I can’t stand him, he knows I can’t do this without him now. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. Though, he is solid. _

_I still have him. I don’t know why that feels like enough. I don’t know if I convinced me; did he? _

.

.

.

A jogger running the more insular pathway with his dog, stumbles upon 17 year old Jules Vaughn. Her body barely buried, had he not been walking with his pooch, he would have missed her. The smell was horrific, but could have been attributed to animals. 

Police storm the area, locking down the park and reserve. Media barred, despite their need to catch a glimpse of anything. Leslie watches the sputtery coverage, tissue balled in her hand to catch tears for a lost child; a child that wasn’t her own, but she knows her daughter has agonized over. 

Rue wants to down a gallon of bleach. Leslie stays with her all night, into the next afternoon, patting her on the back comfortingly and smoothing her hair from her face as she vomits and cries. Rue doesn’t look at her phone; Nate’s name pops up.

(She didn’t think her daughter was one for hearts but she’s amused to see Fuckface *heart emoji*)

“I loved her...I loved her, mom,” it’s the first time she’s voiced her affection to her mother; her coming out shouldn’t have been this—when her face is hot with tears and her heart’s thrumming with anguish. 

Leslie holds her close, without missing a beat, “I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry.” She keeps her in sight, fearing that in her grief, her daughter will relapse. 

She does the unthinkable, calling Nate and telling him to come over. “Have you watched the news by chance?” 

“_No_,” his response is even. And she believes it. He doesn’t seem to be one all that concerned with news. The world revolves around him, she’d imagine. She’s still shocked her daughter seems so happy with him. But the girl hasn’t stopped crying. It’s worth a shot. And her own sanity is splitting. 

“Could you come keep Rue some company?” Leslie asks, “She does better with you around.” She avoids saying why; knowing he doesn’t know. But Jules was also his peer. She’s heard the rumors that Nate is unruly. But seeing him with her daughter, they get on well. And Rue has kept out of trouble, she’s kept clean. And that matters to her. 

_Nate is confused, “uh...yeah. Sure.” He hasn’t heard from Rue all day. And his blood is heated with irritation. He hasn’t texted her again, or dared to call her for fear he will lose it. But Leslie calling is unexpected. _

_He glances around his room, mouth bending upward, as he reaches for his keys and shoves his feet into a pair of trainers. _

Leslie rolls her eyes as the boy's line goes dead. She chucks the phone onto the counter and braces herself above the sink. 

“She doesn’t want to see us right now.” Gia appears from the hallway, her own eyes puffy with her tears. She’s an empathetic one; maybe just for her sister. She’s done her share of acting out in response to her older, troubled sister but she cares deeply—terribly—that Rue stays clean. Leslie reaches to comfort her next. 

They’ve all been on shaky footing since Robert passed. None of them will ever be over it. 

They leave Rue but they sit outside her room door, making sure she’s still in there. She’s not above running away. Gia can’t take it for long and says she’s tired. Leslie nods and sees her off to her room. 

The front screen door rustles. She knows it’s Nate. Simultaneously, Rue exits her bedroom. She needs water, her room is suddenly too hot; too encapsulated with her grief. She needs to see Nate, she needs to be distracted. 

“Rue,” Nate says, just barely in the house. He remembers to kick off his shoes and makes a show of it so it’s seen. He lines them by the door with intention. 

Rue nearly knocks him over. Climbing all over him just as he stands to accept her into his arms. 

“Jules’s gone,” Leslie says. 

Rue clings to him like velcro. She can’t say the words. 

It wasn’t supposed to end this way, without a moment's notice; without warning. Jules was gone without a trace one moment, and found another, a few towns over; north in a park, discarded like trash. It makes Rue sick in her anguish. Jules was important, needed. 

“I’m sorry,” Nate says, without malice, almost as if he means it. She grips his shirt, hands at his waist as he sits with her in the living room. Leslie gives her room to cry and sulk. 

“I shouldn’t have left her,” Rue cries into his neck. He smells familiar and warm. He’s alive, present. He hasn’t left her since she let him in. But she fears he will disappear, and she’ll sink. He smooths her hair out of her face, without thinking. It’s a love language between them. _Touch_. Rue barely accepts it from anyone else. She and Jules were loving in that sense and she’s stunned to know Nate is just as tactile, and maybe it’s more a kind of possession he wants. though he’ll deny it. It’s comforting, warped or not. 

“Hey,” He tugs her hair until she’s looking at him. “You did nothing wrong,” He says, adamantly. He feels renewed anger at Jules; for rejecting him, leaving him there at the carnival like he meant nothing. He’d confessed to caring, even when it had been confusing. And she rejected him. She could never love Rue. She wasn’t capable of it. She hadn’t loved him. She’d never have loved Rue…

Rue, in all her broken glory. She’s always the martyr, isn’t she? 

“I shouldn’t have let her leave.” 

“She _left_ you…” she left them both. He’s not going to cry over her. 

“Nate,” Rue almost rages right there. Climbing from his lap she shakes her head, “Don’t fucking say—why would you say that?” 

It goes from 0 to sixty. 

“It’s true!” he holds his arms out, “it could have been you, do you think she’d be here fucking messed up over you? No. She was always going to leave because that’s who—” 

“Shut up!” Rue screams, so loudly her mother comes back out. “Get out!” 

“Rue…” Leslie begins. 

“No,” She shrugs off her moms arms and holds a hand out to Nate, “_Get out_. I don’t wanna see your face.” 

He almost laughs. He understands she’s upset, she thought she was in love with Jules. But that didn’t compare. There’s no way it could. “C’mon Bennett.”

She’s his. 

“Time to go, Nathaniel.” Leslie says firmly, even though she doesn’t even get how things drastically changed in moments. 

_._

_._

_._

  
When Rue and Nate don’t talk for a few days, he blames Jules. Even in death, she holds more power. She has dominion over a heart he wants so badly. There’s no power more compelling than love. He wants all of it, more of it. It only took one death to show he has none. 

He wants to rage, to throw things and punch them. So he does. But more than that, he wants it back. He needs Rue back. This had not been the plan. This is bullshit, honestly. He blames his father. Sensibly, he thinks, he wouldn’t be in this predicament if he father weren’t so careless and Jules wasn’t a temptation he fell so easily for. He has Rue, who doesn’t want him to be better, she just so desperately ended up wanting him, even in her denial. 

Though, when Maddy calls… he answers. Her number pops up, the ringer rings, he can’t help but answer. She wants to know if he’s going to the funeral, she can’t bear to go alone. 

Of course he’s going. He needs to see that the heart a stealing flake really is gone. Moreover, the whole town will be there. He didn’t think Jules was so loved. And she wasn’t. But woke culture has taken over. Media is having a field day. The groups are talking. His real estate mogul dad has to go. 

_._

_._

_._

It’s a beautiful service. David cries through the entire thing. Rue is relieved that they were allowed to attend. But he doesn’t look at her. The bridge between families is burnt to ash. 

There’s not much of Jules’ family there; her mother's side wasn’t supportive of her choices, as Jules told her. Her paternal family cry silently, or not at all. They just sit in solidarity. It appears Jules was many things to many people. 

She spots Nate and she wants to scream. He’s there under the guise of being just another student. But because of status, the Jacobs family is sitting closer than feels necessary. Beside him, Maddy. Tears flow anew. She feels used, but in some way, a burden is lifted. 

Her friends are here too, with their families.

Rue avoids it all and stares at the closed casket. There’s a picture of Jules’ smiling face, mounted in a tripod. Memories flash between her eyelids. She sighs in relief that she can remember her that way. People are asked if they want to say a few words, she is standing before she can stop to think. Normally she’d have to be dragged up there, but the need for closure spurns her on. 

Her palms sweat and she switches hands holding the mic. This was a mistake, offering herself up for such scrutiny. “My name is Rue Bennett. Jules was my...” she pauses, mouth dry and her heart races too fast to stop the word vomit. “She was my best friend. And I love her.” She confesses it. Rue’s father seems to feel better, looking at her for the first time. “I’ll always be grateful for the time we had together. I’m sorry I wasn’t there—“ her voice cracks, and the pain is evident. “I’m sorry.” She hands the mic off, and looks down at her feet to avoid falling down the steps near where she’d stood by the pulpit. It was only a few seconds but it’d felt much longer. 

Avoiding Nate’s eyes is impossible. He looks devoid of any emotion. But there’s something; she can feel it. 

She herself will die before he apologizes to her. 

How dare he show his face here? 

Maddy doesn’t spare her a glance. 

Rue nearly trips over her feet as she flees the sanctuary. Maddy reaches for his hand but that doesn’t stop him from following Rue out. 

Rue rushed to the bathroom just off the entrance of the modest chapel. Nate stands in the foyer momentarily._ “Fuck,_” he mutters to himself, thinking she left. He ventures towards the bathroom and thinks for maybe a second before going into the ladies room. He squats slightly, wilting as he hears Rue sobbing in one of the stalls, dry heaves that sound like anxiety forcing it out. “Rue...baby?” The term of endearment feels foreign on his tongue, but natural when begging for forgiveness. 

_Wait…_

He shakes off that stupid feeling and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Go away,” she dispels; sitting on a toilet, her knee shakes in the aftermath of publicity. She stares down at the floor watching his feet approach. She reaches down to scratch her calf self-consciously. Her slacks cut off at her ankle. Chunky black dress shoes, with a slight platform; and black turtleneck. Hair tyed up in a bun to keep out of her puffy face, she is the picture out of place. Her mother tried getting her into a dress. But Jules wouldn’t care about what she was wearing, unless she didn’t look like her Rue. 

Nate is searching for something to say. “Are you okay?” 

“You don’t care,” her voice is small, smaller than it would be in normality(with him). 

Nate sinks to the floor, against the wall across from the stall she’s in. “I’m not leaving until you come out. That’ll be fuckin bad for whoever wants to come in here.” 

She makes a face, knowing he means it. She wants to be stubborn, but she’s tired. She’s ashamed that he hasn’t had to put more effort into wearing her down. Unfurled, she undoes the lock on the stall, and pushes it open.

Nate watches her exit, and she walks by him to go wash her hands and splash water in her face. He gets up, and she watches him in the mirror before he is pressed behind her, running soapy hands under the water himself. “Shouldn’t you be with Maddy?” 

“I shouldn’t have ever been with her,” he replies. He vividly remembers Rue rejecting him when they were younger; when he was acting out against his dad. Now, who’s he doing it for? “It always should have been you.” 

Rue snorts, despite herself. “Yeah, whatever. Go back to her.” 

“Can’t now.” There’s a stack of paper towel and he takes a hand and uses what sticks. He turns off the faucet as she leans into him, gripping his arms as he braces on the sink, paper still gripped in his hand. “You’re stuck with me, Bennett.” Their reflections are solemn, though there’s an air of ego around him, even now. 

He’s never lost her. Not now, she’s too confused by grief—an analytical mind too afraid to trust herself to make emotional decisions like closing the Nate chapter still writing itself out. He said some vile things though, and he should apologize. He won’t. 

Sobriety has been harder, with pain looming and haunting. 

“I shouldn’t have left.” He says next, “I should have been with you.” 

Cheek-to-cheek, she feels his face against hers and she lets out a sob. She thought she was done crying. 

She cries for Jules, for herself, for Nate and the terrible way he spoke to her. She wants to push him away, to be mad at him for daring to touch her. Her heart aches, but she’s also angry. Angry at the world. 

Feeling like a traitor, she sinks even further into his embrace. Turning to face him, she weaves herself around him and he lifts her off the ground. One arm across her back; the other hand under her butt. 

He kisses her still tear-soaked cheek. One. Two. Three times. Rue searches for his mouth until she’s kissing him. He returns the kiss, pressing back with soft pressure. It’s the first time he is delicate with her. 

It doesn’t take long for him to have her pressed against a wall, longer feverish, tongue in her mouth kisses. She returns them until she’s breathless but back on her feet, hands at his waist to…

A knock on the door, “Rue? Sweetheart...time to go.” Leslie’s voice comes through the door. 

“Ignore her,” Nate demands. Rue nearly laughs. 

“We’ve desecrated this place enough.” Standing on her toes, she offers another kiss and he takes it. “I’ll go out first, you wait.” 

“No,” he rolls his eyes and takes her hand. He won’t be without her hand in his for a while. He will ignore what that means; just as he’s ignoring her little speech about loving Jules. How could that be? She hasn’t said it to him. 

“You shouldn’t be in there together—what is wrong with the both of you?” Leslie scolds them just as they exit the restroom. 

“Someone had to make sure she was okay…” Nate shrugs, near disrespectfully. Rue yanks his hand. 

“Excuse you, young man,” Leslie bites, “You may talk to your parents that way; but you will not speak to me that way.” 

Nate scoffs. 

“Can we not do this here?” Rue asks. “Mom, he just came to check on me. Let’s go back inside.” 

“It’s over,” Leslie replies. “The sanctuary is being cleared. And we’re off to the internment. Go find your parents, Nathaniel.” 

He hates being called Nathaniel. Viscerally. 

He watches as Maddy sees him, standing with Cassie and her sister who looks disinterested in her grief. Majority of it is based around her anger at him, if her piercing stare is anything to go by. 

“I’ll find you later,” He says to Rue, looking down at her. She nods and holds the hand that grips her neck. 

He walks by Maddy to find Marsha and his father. “Is she okay?” Cal asks. Something in his eyes burns, it almost looks like skepticism if not rage. Nate is confused mostly, as he’s used to both of those things coming from his dad. 

“No.” 

There’s a beat, an awkward sort of stare between them, and then he knows. 

_._

_._

_._

  
Saying goodbye sucks. The flowers were nice though. 

_._

_._

_._

School wasn’t the same, after the funeral. It didn’t take long for the rumor mill to find out that Rue had been the last one in town to see her in person. 

She was always used to being nobody, or at least being uninteresting enough that she could shrink into nothing when she needed; not anymore though. You’d think a drug problem would have been issue enough, but now, a strange disappearance and death. 

Principal Hayes had her in the office after all the students were gathered in the gym to discuss that grief counselors will be there for the next couple weeks if anyone needed to talk to them during a free period. And of course, she has not gone. 

Rue notices how eerily quiet the Jacobs’ house is every time she is there. There’s no energy, no life in this house. She knows the path to Nate’s room well. 

She should go home. 

Deep in the recesses of Nate’s mind, he knows his father did it, or at least knows where Jules is. And while he’s not sure if he cares about what happened or not, Rue does. She cares, and she’s blaming herself for it. 

This was supposed to be a game for him, something he did just to amuse himself—until he was bored of her and could crush her spirit. He knew she knew about his father, and in turn, it wasn’t a secret between them. But how easily did she fall for him after their little debate? He’s had her from then. But now, when both of them can destroy the other; neither has made the move. 

She hasn’t taken anything from his home in her little quest to ruin his perfect life—as he’s assumed she would (she wasn’t very secretive like she thought. Her inner workings dance across her face openly) and he’s given her plenty chances. And when she’s gone home, he’d go behind her and pretty much catalogue the items in sight. She’s not sticking to her guns. 

Deep down, he loves her. Over the months he’s fallen irrevocably in love with her. It makes him angry, but not at her. He started this. He roped her in and wouldn’t let her leave. Not blaming her though, that feels like growth. 

Her rage towards his father, that feels like solidarity. 

So he finds himself watching his father closer than he used to. Cal is intense, everything is a problem. He can’t do anything right, more than usual. He sneaks into his dad’s office, takes note of things, new videos added to the collection scares him, but these ones he can’t watch. He sees something that makes his stomach drop, the tape of Jules, is missing. But something catches his eye. A patch of fabric, purple, silky. It looks like a handkerchief. But it’s not, and the voice in his head is screaming that it’s not. It’s familiar. He doesn’t dare touch it. But he thinks of the formal, long and hard and he remembers. Purple high waisted pants. Jules. 

Rushing from the office he goes downstairs, out the front door, slams it shut behind him. The quarterback huddles on the front step, hands near his mouth, elbows on his knees. 

_He did it. He did it. He did it. _

Jules had been a thorn in his side, but he’d just wanted her to go back to whence she came. Not fuckin die. And surely, not by his father's hands. And he begins to piece it together. That night, he hadn’t seen much of his dad after he left for the dance. But that wasn’t unusual at all. Jules had gone and unlike what Rue thought—that she’s abandoned her—she’d boarded another train home. Cal intercepted her somehow. No, he planned to. Cal wouldn’t do this without planning it. 

His father has always been militant in raising him and his brothers. One of them even left—the lucky fucker. But Nate hadn’t thought his dad capable of murder. He just expressed power over his family. Nate knew he was weak but when their power struggle comes to a head, as it tends to, Nate is the one who falls apart. It’s sickening. 

In the end, he deals, so not to disrupt the already fragile picture of his life. He’s the screw up, he’s the imperfect one. But how is that? 

Thunder rolls in the sky. But no rain. No outpouring. Just rage in the sky. Nate feels settled by this. 

He grabs his phone from his pocket, dialing Rue’s number. But he gets a moment of clarity. Will he tell her? Should he? Who gives a fuck what he should do? He wonders if she already knows what he knows. Should he shatter the already frail state of his home? Why does he care so much? This house, this family, it’s destroyed him. He doesn’t like who he is. 

She answers. The one person who knows he’s a trash bag and doesn’t seem to be put off. What does that say about either of them? 

“Where are you?” He asks. 

_“Uh...my house?” _

“Get dressed, I’m hungry.” Not unrelatedly, he feels psychopatchic when he can say that, and mean it after what he’s discovered. 

_._

_._

_._

Rue can tell something is wrong just from the way he is refusing to look at her. But she’d been too out of it to voice being unsettled, at all. His hand was stiff against hers, fingers gripped tightly, possessively, as they drove and then walked. 

They’re in their spot, the diner he’s claimed to hate, sitting on the same side of the booth.

She tucks some of her curls behind her ear and watches as he devours a mountain of chocolate chip waffles. Her apple juice sits untouched. 

She’d had klonopin pills in her hand when he called and told her he was coming to get her, staring in the bathroom mirror. The grieving teen had just wanted to down them and float away in a fog of calm and go to sleep—maybe never waking up. But part of Nate is buried so deeply in her heart now she can’t leave him. And she can’t take the thought of him leaving either. 

“I love you, Nate,” she blurts, quietly. Jules' death has left her so utterly destroyed she can’t stomach the thought of another person leaving her. Her father was the first man she’d ever relied on, and emotionally...she doesn’t know how she’s gotten here, with Nate but he’s the one thread holding her together. It makes her sick but it’s okay at the same time too. She’s at war with herself over it...when he’s not around. 

He stops, mid bite. And looks at her. “Uh, what?” Never in a million years did he think she’d ever have the balls to say such a thing to him—to give him such power. 

Rue squeezes his hand, “I said that I love you.” She lifts her chin defiantly, like _yeah...I just said that._ All it takes to break her confidence is a dismissive chuckle from Nate. He smirks at her and she shrinks away, trying to take her hand from him. But he doesn’t let go. With double the strength, he pulls her nearer, kissing her. 

This kiss is not soft the way it had been in the epicenter of her grief, but it’s not rough either. It just feels sure. But so many thoughts are swirling in Rue’s head she can only brace a freehand on his body, trying to get him off. Her attempts fade when he sucks her bottom lip. 

He has a shit eating grin when he pulls away, but doesn’t say it back. In all the worst ways, he’s won the game they’ve been playing; maybe he’s the only one who knows about it. 

“You’re not gonna say anything…” it’s not a question, moreso a realization from the girl. She feels like a fool, not entirely for loving him, but letting him know without any assurance that he’d return the feeling. And she knows looking at love from his point of view is skewed; she hadn’t thought it was so screwy. Fuck. 

He looks at her then, smirk still on his face. “I love you too, Rue. And you’re mine.” She didn’t think it possible for that to not sound creepy. And though it doesn’t, not coming from him, she still feels mighty unsettled. 

“I have to show you something.” He says, and the other shoe drops. Nate removes something like a handkerchief from his pocket. “I found this…” 

Knowing it before she can even explain why, she’s feeling nauseous. “Move, I feel sick,” she says, already pushing him out of her way. 

He gets up and watches as she rushes towards the ladies room. He doesn’t follow, knowing she’ll come back out. Sitting, he knows he’s going to choose her over his father. She loves him. Her father never has, he knows that. He loves the prestige or having a powerful name here in town, in a community that all but worships him. 

Nate was bred to be a continuation of perfect and he’s tired of that. Cal has the audacity to be an awful parent, husband, man, and now, is a murderer. He doesn’t deserve the rage Nate feels, the loyalty he’s so desperately clings to in order to keep his family together. But that image is in shambles.

When she returns, she looks as though she’ll fall over, “Where the fuck did you get that?” She’s not sitting beside him now, clearly irked, angry even. “Why do you have it? Where did you—”

“It was in his office,” Nate says, chest tight with apprehension for the first time in a long time. Rue burst into tears, staring at him. 

“Why are you doing this?” He can't be serious, Rue thinks. There was never a moment in her mind where she considered he’d ever turn on his father, muchless implicate him here. He had to be pulling some sick joke, he knew what Jules had been wearing. 

“What?” Nate leans forward, head tilted. He throws it at her. The cloth hits her chest, making her recoil. Her hands shake. 

“This isn’t funny.” 

“You think I'm joking?” He sneers, “Not that i went in there for you? To help you?”

Rue swallowed thickly, her bottom lip quivering. She didn’t know what to do with this, his help. Deep down, she knows she’s fallen in love with a terrible person, and she’s accepted it. She’s accepted that she’ll have to let him go—choose finding proof that Jules was murdered by Cal Jacobs, alone, or stay with Nate. She can't do both. And she’s already managed to reconcile it. She doesn’t know what to do here.

Saying no trust, no love was bullshit. She feels tethered to him, and she doesn’t know why. Or how she can feel unsafe, unsteady, but warm, and secure and wanted all at once. 

“You never cared,” Rue mutters, needing to let it out. 

“I didn’t,” Nate concedes it. There’s no point in lying to her about it as she can look at him and tell—maybe she won’t trust it, as he’s worn on her, but deep down… “You care though.” He watches as her eyes fill with tears. And his chest tightens again. He’s done that to her, made her so unsure. He feels what many call guilt, for the first time where she’s concerned. 

She presses her hands to her face. She’s shaking like a leaf. 

“The sick fuck had it sitting there.” Nate watches her pick it up, rolling it in her fingers. She feels so many things, but mostly that she hates Cal Jacobs. Rage bubbles in her gut. Cal is a rapist, and a murderer. Looking at Nate, he’s a lot of things, but still she doesn’t know how the two are related.

But she wants Cal to suffer. 

“What are we gonna do?” Rue whispers. “Nate...he did it…” She bursts into tears, suddenly near hyperventilation. Nate reaches her, taking her hands and looking at her, working her through her breathing. There was a time he would have dismissed her. But now, he feels rage, more than he ever has at his father. 

He could kill him. 

Nate kneels before her, hand gripping the back of her neck. The server they know well looks on, but he waves her off as Rue cries in his neck, gripping onto his tightly. 

“It’ll be okay, baby.” Nate swallows, mind working a mile a minute. 

_._

_._

_._

_I think Nate’s my biggest fear. I’m scared to love him, lose him, need him and know him the way I do. _

_It scares me that he isn’t afraid of thinking the same about me. I'm here, with him, by myself. _

_._

_._

_._

  
The next time she sees, he’s at her front door. Her mother is working late, and Gia is asleep. He’s covered in bruises and blood. Some of the mess isn’t his own. His hands shake, his heart in his throat and he just stares at her. 

“Nate, what did you do?” Rue doesn’t think, dragging him into her house.

She already knows. 

"I hated him," Nate mutters to her, "I hated him. I love you."

_._

_._

_._

  
The parking lot is a quiet. There's no one there to see her. With a shaky breath, she exits her car and steals another glance around. Still no one.

Maddy takes a breath, clutches her bag to her chest, and walks to the front doors of the police station. 


	4. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> (TW: mentions of suicide)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve come to the end of this bad romance. 
> 
> I want to reiterate that I do NOT condone this kind of relationship but creatively, I had a lot of fun exploring the dark side of love. 
> 
> I wish you all the best! Love happy, and healthily, y’all. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and giving your feedback. I still have another Rue/Nate circulating—very different from this, and I’m making it up as I go along but...give her a read.

_  
Patience is a virtue always a bitch to hear. This time, patience really would have been a good trait to use. _

.

.

.

  
  


“And you're telling me, you just happened across this video?” The detective is sick to her stomach, visibly squicked upon returning to the interview room Maddy has been sitting in, nursing the same stale cup of coffee. 

  
  


Maddy nods. “It’s bad right?” She asks, “You can arrest him for that?”

  
  


“It’s not proof that Cal killed your friend.” 

  
  


Maddy is flummoxed, “He’s the only one that could have.” She is almost enraged at the thought her plan to take that sick man down, hasn’t worked. In retaliation for embarrassing her, she would do the same to Nate. But this stupid fucking detective is telling her that it’s not going to work. “Jules was 17. He raped her, and now she’s dead!” 

  
  


She’s right. They don’t have any leads, and people are still following this case very closely. There’s nothing to say Jules had any enemies. She was a teenage girl. 

  
  


“You’re just gonna let him get away with that?” 

  
  


It would be another three days before a detective even set foot on Jacobs’ property. 

.

.

.

_ Rue’s soft pants fill the motel room. She eagerly folds her long legs across Nate’s hips. He rocks above her, hips dipping furiously, one hand supporting his weight above her and the other hand between their bodies, massaging the usually neglected clit. _

_ They’ve been at this for a while, and he knows her body like the back of his hand. Rue doesn’t fake it, ever. At first, it was out of spite, she held back mostly. But she never gives undue praise. _

The house is a mess when Marsha returns, the lights off. Her bags sit in the doorway, as they normally do even when her husband is there to receive her and never does. “Nathaniel?” 

No response. 

_  
He’s pushed her head down into the pillows and with defiance, she’s fought back. She feels too good to throw around at the moment.   
_

_  
  
Rue mewls, toes curling. With a wild throw of her head, she pushes back on her knees, upright as Nate’s arm crosses her chest. _

_ He bites her neck, soothing the sting with his tongue. _

  
  


There’s tiny shards of glass stuck between the floorboards. Climbing up stairs off the foyer, Mrs. Jacobs stands in her son’s closed doorway, “Nate?”

  
  


She pushes into his bedroom and it’s a disaster. There’s glass from his mirror shattered across the floor, and holes in the walls. The neglected mother fishes her phone out of her pocket, dialing her son’s number. 

  
  


_ Nate’s phone buzzes on the floor, the ringing silent. They’re too lost in one another, fighting to keep quiet, their bodies slick and pliant. With a stifled cry, Rue collapses into the pillows. Nate has made a mess on the backs of her thighs but she’s far too satisfied to care. _

  
  


_ He reaches for a towel she’d snagged from the closet preemptively, cleaning her and himself up before tossing it into the hamper in the corner. _

  
  


_ Rue has her eyes closed and her legs are still twitching from aftershock, but she’s still awake. Her hair is a mess, but she’s the picture of beauty, and Nate stands above her at the side of her double bed. He brushes her hair from her face and she nuzzles his palm. _

When he doesn’t answer, Marsha panics. Dialing Cal again, it goes straight to voicemail, which is not unusual for him. But he’ll be angry with her for not knowing where Nate is. Aaron being their _ public _ problem child is already a headache. 

She can’t breathe in her son’s room and stands in the hallway. She’ll wait for Cal to call her back, like a good puppy. With uncertainty, she starts to look around and takes note of everything being a bit askew. It smells like paint all through the house, and bleach. Frames are moved, crooked or hung not quite where they once were, and noticeably, a family photo on the wall near the stairs is in a different frame entirely. She’s the one who keeps this place spick-and-span, she knows how it looks; how it’s supposed to _feel._

She calls the police. 

_ Nate slinks into bed beside Rue, after tossing her shirt at her and pulling his boxers back on. He closes his eyes and smirks as he feels the bed rustle and Rue moves closer to cross one ankle over his shin. He doesn’t like to cuddle. So this is the best she gets; dessert. _

_ His smile fades as he remembers what he’s done. _

_ He and his father _ ** _really_ ** _ fought. He doesn’t regret it. Cal had been smug until the end. Nate faked an episode and then suckered him in. _

_ Over the last week he’s fixed up what he can in his house, patching over holes from missed punches and flying limbs; he quit on his room, he’s never in there anymore. He’s replaced frames and used so much bleach everywhere else though, his hands(which are already battered and bruised) and knees are sore and have taken extra punishment. _

_ “When does your mom get back?” Rue asks. Sadness and fear quake in her chest, enflaming her gut and her conscience. _

_ “Shouldn’t be too long now.” _

_ He’s too busy in his own brain to move in anyway. He wants to bask in her light a little longer. He’s stationary, images of killing his father plague his conscience. Rue’s body was a distraction for a while, but the way they meld and the sounds she makes just barely covered up everything else. “This is the last time for a while, I think,” Nate comments absently. _

_ She’s so emotional, and knows exactly what that means. She hates it vehemently. Pursing her lips, the teen sighs heavily and he finally looks at her. Hesitantly, soft fingers reach for his hair, which is still damp with sweat. The air conditioner kicks in a few moments later, providing the only noise in the house at the moment. _

_ He turns to her, “Where would we go if we ran away together, right now?” He wasn’t saying they _ ** _should. _ ** _ He’s not stupid enough to believe they could. But she’s considered it before with someone else, why not him? As he adjusts himself, raised up on one elbow, palm to his ear, he traces a stroke of his free hand up and down her bare spine. _

_ “Somewhere quiet,” Rue says back. _

_ “What would we do?” Nate asks. _

_ “Realistically?” She ponders, grinning at him when his face swells into a smile of his own. “We’d probably end up right back here. But…” _

_ “We’d be together forever. You would love me, and I would love you. Fuck everything else.” Nate gently tugs at her hair. “I’d do anything for you...and you’ll do anything for me.” _

_ “We don’t have to run away for that,” Rue says back. In the last few days she’s realized that she’s not here by herself in this. He’s just as crazy—if not crazier—about her. _

_ “I’m gonna go away for a long time, I think,” Nate isn’t totally delusional. He knows what he’s done. It wasn’t like the time he lost his temper with Maddy and used some poor schmuck to get out of it. “My mom isn’t gonna ever love me the way your mom loves you. And I don’t think I care at all. But I won’t get away with this, not this.” _

_ “Your dad was a terrible—“ _

_ “So am I,” Nate confesses. She doesn’t argue. He appreciates that. “I picked you up that night after the formal with every intention of being the worst thing to ever happen to you.” He knows saying it aloud, acknowledging it, puts it out there and makes it unavoidable. _

_ “I went along with it to get dirt on you.” Rue shrugs. “I don’t know what this is. But I know that even if it’s ugly, it’s real.” _

_ Nate laughs, nodding. “I’m gonna miss you,” he says. And _ ** _that..._ ** _ that makes her cry. _

_ In the stagnant silence, there’s a knock on the door. Rue stares at him, and he stares at her. And they know. Gingerly, Rue rolls out of bed and pulls on some sweatpants. When she emerges from her bedroom, she’s fighting back tears. Her mother is exiting her room, tying her robe. _

_ Rue plants herself in front of Nate and he could move her if he wants, but he doesn’t. Not really. He’s scared, he’s terrified. They grip on to one another. Leslie stares back at them while opening the front door. Badges are already in her face. _

_ “Sorry for disturbing you at this hour,” The detective begins, introducing herself and her partner. “Do you know Nate Jacobs?” _

_ “What is this about?” Leslie asks. As a black woman in a predominantly white area, she’s accustomed to dealing with law enforcement, but she doesn’t let them lead. _

_ “Is he here?” _

_ “What is this about?” Leslie asks again, about ready to slam the door. _

_ “His mother Marsha Jacobs has reported him missing, and she hasn’t heard from his father. We have reason to believe he is in danger.” _

_ Leslie looks on skeptically. Nate and Rue are glued to their spots in the hallway. _

_ “She says your daughter and their son have grown close over the last few months. They’re dating.” _

_ “Yes,” Leslie folds her arms. “He’s here...Nate, come out here, boy.” _

_ “Wait,” Rue pushes back against him, doesn’t want him to leave and she’s quickly devolving into a panic because she _ ** _knows _ ** _ what he’s done. _

_ “Baby, it’s okay,” he whispers, leaning down to say it in her ear. Once he disentangles them, he pecks her lips, but that’s not enough and Rue is internally screaming. Her eyes are wide and Leslie still hasn’t caught on. They’re about to take him in for questioning, but this is it. This is it. _

_ As he’s walking out the front door, he looks at Rue’s mother, “Thank you, Mrs Bennett.” _

_ It’s the first time he’s been so polite to her. She’s confused. “Where is his mother?” _

_ “Down at the station.” The lead says, with a fake smile. She ushers Nate in the direction of the car while the other takes him by the arm. _

_ “That really where we’re going?” Nate asks casually. He’s so tired. _

_ “Yeah,” he replies. “Just need you to answer some questions. Your mother is waiting to take you home.” _

_ “I love you, Nate!” Rue is compelled to call after him, holding on to her mother—who thinks them mightily dramatic—the screen door between them. Leslie knows their puppy love isn’t the greatest, but she hasn’t worried about Rue relapsing. She’s not confident enough in her parenting at the moment to verbalize that to anyone. _

_ Nate smiles over his shoulder just as he’s about to get in the suv. He mouths a response. “I love you.” _

_ “Again, sorry for the late visit.” _

_ Leslie and Rue watch them drive away and Rue bursts into tears. She knows. _

_ . _

_ . _

_ . _

  
Rue sits with Lexi at school on Monday, silence between them. Kat has the flu, and texted that morning to tell Rue they’re still cool, no matter what anyone in this shit town thinks. But everyone else at school has alienated her. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Lexi asks the stupid question and knows it as such, but she doesn’t know what else to ask or even say.   
  
  


Rue shakes her head, “Not even a little.”

  
  
Nate isn’t there. He hasn’t been around all week, not since he’d been arrested the previous Thursday, late that night.

  
His mother, Marsha, returned from a visit with her sister—where Cal sent her from time to time _ when they needed time apart _. She hadn’t been home to report that Cal was missing for three days after he was already dead and across town, rotting. It didn’t take long to find him once the investigation was underway. 

Nate had bought a room with his credit card and left him strewn across the bed, stripped naked. The trophy he kept after killing Jules, shoved in his mouth. His laptop with every unsavory picture and video was left on the desk. The clothes he died in were burned in a fire pit in the park.  
  
  


Nate had been as careful as he could have been, save for the DNA left under his father’s nails. He got rid or the knife he’d stabbed his father with, high up on the thigh was the deepest, deadliest gash. There’d been so much blood, Nate cleaned it from the kitchen on his hands and knees. 

He was precise, centered and focused like he hadn’t become the man he killed. 

Rue’s face is puffy with tears. She and Lexi sit in the courtyard. She’s been avoiding stares since Nate’s arrest. Now, she’s the weirdo, druggy with a killer boyfriend. She wants to go home. But her mother watches her like a hawk. Lexi too. She can't be with her escape—she never should have been with Nate at all. She knows this, but can’t bring herself to regret it either. 

_ No one _is going to let her get high and forget. 

Nate won’t be released on bail. The family attorney tried. But he’s remanded. She’s warned to stay away from the trial. She can’t handle it anyway and she is forced to quickly realize...Nate’s life is over. 

And all he’d had to do was wait a day. When he’d been killing his father, Maddy was in a police station handing over a recording she’d stolen. 

He’d just had to wait. But at the same time, she’d wanted Cal dead. She didn’t think Nate would do it.

She sleeps soundly at night, somehow. The Jacobs men aren’t out gallivanting and making women miserable. She could scream just from knowing she is so closely tied to Nate while knowing he is a hazard. 

They were going to follow up, arrest Cal. He’d just become the one and only suspect in Jules’ murder. And Nate fucking killed him—bled him in the kitchen and bathroom before leaving him in a motel room. Every cop hates him for stealing the collar—the praise. Nate exponentially increased the negative press. 

Someone leaked another tape, the video was posted online, hundreds of thousands watching it before it was removed from the sites. Rue remembers hearing there was terrible caption after caption. 

Cal was violent. Shoving every person he conquered into the pillows as he stole away something sacred away from them, he made himself their ruler. 

.

.

.

_ The abuse he faced didn’t stand up in court. Nate refused to admit he knew about anyone other than Jules being a victim before killing his dad, and not before the night he killed him. He can’t face it yet. _

_ Aaron didn’t show, and the hold Cal has on Marsha has lasted even in death. _

_ I missed the whole trial. Part of me is glad. Another hates that I couldn’t be the one person there for him no matter what. _

_ The trial played out in the papers and on the news. Architecture Mogul Murdered by Athlete Son. Jules was a footnote. It made me want to scream. And no one else wanted to come forward to get Nate a lighter rap. He didn’t deserve it. And because he won’t admit that he’s screwed up, they didn’t have him examined by a shrink. _

  
  
.

.

.

“I forbid you from seeing that boy,” Leslie says, sitting across from her daughter at the table. “You’re not going.” 

“You can’t—“ 

“I made the mistake of thinking you knew better than to get involved with a family like that,” Leslie cuts her off. “What the hell were you thinking?” 

“I love him,” Rue argues. “He sees me. Jules left. Dad…” 

“Your father had cancer!” Leslie almost screams. 

“And he’s still gone, isn’t he?” Rue cries. She’s so emotional these days. “There wasn’t enough time to say goodbye.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” Leslie moves to crouch near her daughter and hug her. “Rue, there’s never enough time, baby.”

“_Please_, let me see him,” Rue begs. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do after, but let me see him before they sentence him.” 

_ . _

.

.

Sentencing is quick. Life. Possibility of parole in 20 years. 

He showed callous disregard for his father's life, regardless of his father’s guilt in any other case. The details, and the extra mile Nate went to burn the last vestiges of respect anyone had for Cal, his lack of remorse...none of it boded well. He also had a history of violence no one can deny. 

Rue is the last person he sees. She wants to reach him—desperately, achingly—but they take him away before she can. Her voice dies in her throat.   
  


His mother doesn’t look at him and he supposes the money they’ve been putting in his savings account over the years is majorly depleted because of what he’s done. 

Rue is all that he’s had left and he hasn’t seen her, save for the glimpses he’s stolen today. 

Maddy has been trying to get time with him but it’s impossible. She’s tried to visit and he’s turned down every one but his lawyer. McKay calls, which is nice. They talk about school. He doesn’t have time for Madeleine’s melodrama so he ignores her. 

(Truthfully, she’s done so much emotional labor for him through the years, she doesn’t know what to do with herself even if she was actively trying to ruin him. He’s being cruel as well. He’s never had a normal relationship with a girl.) 

Maddy could strike Rue dead in the middle of the courtroom and Rue wouldn’t notice; not until her ghost was looking down at her discarded carcass. 

Rue is always crying because of him. It hits him like a knife would stab and dismember his heart. Leslie is between Rue and his mother. Marsha doesn’t look at him, as she can’t bring herself to acknowledge how much she failed her sons, and herself. He stops breathing as Leslie grabs Rue’s arm and he’s yanked out of the courtroom. 

Cal wasn’t a good man, but she wasn’t a good mother either. 

He is solemnly quiet the entire way to prison. He was tried as an adult. He’s visibly young, but tall, and imposing. As a rich, white boy in the system his stay will be relatively uneventful. But he’s still not made for prison or the images that plague his psyche. 

He doesn’t have a cell mate yet, which is nice so he doesn’t have to directly face anyone after a night of hellish nightmares. 

He can’t take this at all. 

All he sees is blood and gore when he closes his eyes. And when he’s awake, he misses the person he did this for. Rue. Honestly though, it’s unfair to say he killed anyone for her, much less Cal who he hates more than anything. He’s glad Cal is dead, not tormenting anyone else or pretending he was God’s gift to East Highland. But he’s still haunting his son. 

  
He smells her vanilla and honey body wash. He feels the softness of her skin. He sees her wild mane as she loses herself to him; truly and freely. Rue has a crooked smile little we’re blessed with _experiencing _and he doesn’t even deserve the memory of it.   
  


He hopes she den forgive him for corrupting her sensibilities and her ability to save herself. He hopes she can forgive herself of their love—their broken and battered versions of it. 

How will he do this for the rest of his life? He can’t. He’s fallen into the worst depression and cycle of self loathing. 

He lasts about a month. He writes Rue a note on the back of a Polaroid she’d taken after one of their trysts and mails it to her. He doesn’t wait for a response. Nothing will compare to being free—truly free—with her. Running away. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers on a really bad day. 

Nate waits until nightfall, using his sheets to end it all. 

.  
.  
.

Rue wails, her body shakes and her mother has to hold her upright when Marsha spares Leslie the call. 

Nate is dead; found in his cell. 

She didn’t get to say anything to him, she didn’t get a kiss or a hug; nothing, the last time she saw him. What other tragedy has yet to befall her, she doesn’t know. 

She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep. She becomes a zombie and Leslie can’t get her to talk to anyone as she becomes a vegetable; once the crying stops and there’s nothing but resentment for the love she lost, for Jules; for Nate. The boy who’s muddled every memory Rue has, and stolen everything that once made her feel. The 18 year old boy stole Rue’s life; what was salvageable, stuck in a little locked away part of her heart that she no longer wants. Maybe moving on is possible but she is so lost, she hasn’t reached the tunnel with light at the end. She does not want to.

There’s barely any good moments with Nate. But he’d been alive, present. And even he too, left her. 

She blames herself for not knowing. And _ for _knowing. Because what was going to come of this but tragedy? 

She thinks back on that night, of the formal and after—what would have happened if she’d kept walking? The same thing maybe, but now there’s been extra steps in between; because she left the house through her room window to score and came back to down all of it in her bed. Her mother and sister have no idea. 

She was willing to accept too much heartache for so little payoff. Even now, when he’s gone, she still doesn’t know how to deal with Nate Jacobs. She can’t do this. 

She can’t love him without anything in return. Is this the kind of love she is made for? The kind that hurts? She wants to scream. And so she does. 

Drowsy; her world is spinning. All she can do is stare at the ceiling and cry. She cries and screams for herself, for Jules, and for Nate. 

As her family rushes into her room, the light fades just as she does. 

Maybe they will be together again. And they can play this wicked, terrible, very dangerous game...again. 


End file.
